


Why We Lie Awake

by hydraxx, showmethelions (sightandsound3733)



Series: This is Why We Fight [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Injury, M/M, Past Violence, Rebel Leader Matt Holt, blood mention, injury description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydraxx/pseuds/hydraxx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightandsound3733/pseuds/showmethelions
Summary: With home far behind and his loved ones gone, Matt has to carve out a new place among strangers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series! We strongly recommend that you read the first two parts before continuing here. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Some days, Matt kind of regrets asking Zarra’s second-in-command to train him to fight.

It’s not that Ortraz is a bad teacher—he’s great, actually—but when Matt feels like just another piece of grit on the training room floor, it’s hard to appreciate the work. Especially when his shoulder pops as he reaches up to take Ortraz’s offered hand.

Matt groans as he gets hauled to his feet, wiping away mingled sweat and dust with the back of his sword hand. How does this place get so dirty? 

“That was good,” Ortraz says, a deep rumble that Matt swears he can feel in his bones on the rare occasion Ortraz raises his voice. “Now again.”

“Again?! You just said it was good!” He can’t quite convince his body to stand up straight yet, not with the way his very spine feels bruised from that last hit.

“It was good, but not great.” Ortraz falls annoyingly easily into a fighting stance.

Matt blows his bangs away from his eyes with a huff. He should cut his hair again soon. “You’re an ass.”

Ortraz’s calm expression doesn’t even twitch. 

As he settles into his own stance Matt continues, “I don’t know if you’re an ass because you’re Galra, or if it’s a special little personal trait.” He almost misses the way Ortraz’s nose wrinkles up. “Shit. Sorry. Galran, I know.”  
  
“It is fine,” Ortraz reassures, expression smoothing out completely, just the smallest upturn at the corner of his mouth. “No harm done, Holt.”  
  
“Cool,” Matt nods, rolling his shoulders back. “Still an ass, though.”  
  
“Insults will not improve your reaction time.” Ortraz makes this quiet sort of huffing, the closest thing to a laugh that Matt’s heard from him in the few months they’ve been doing this. “Clear your mind.”

“Like that’s so easy,” Matt mutters, straightening where he stands. He breathes in deep, resting on the balls of his feet, barely noticing the quiet working of the mechanics in his legs now. Ortraz is settled and calm in his stance, waiting patiently for Matt to make the first strike, just as he always does.

Coming to train with Ortraz has become routine since soon after Matt settled in with the Coalition. Leilani healed him, the legs don’t hurt anymore, and getting to live without pain allows Matt to really take stock of things—to start listening to signals his mind and body are trying to send now that his mental frequencies aren’t flooded with pain.

He’s always been lean, always been teetering right on the cusp of skinny and scrawny, and it’s never been a problem. He used to be just a scientist with a hunky boyfriend willing to do the occasional heavy lifting. He never needed to lift more than some samples. Matt did his fair share of training for Kerberos when the time came, he was cleared with a clean bill of health and he passed all his strength and endurance tests, but none of that mattered when it came to the arena.

He was weak, he’d needed protecting, and Matt lost Shiro because of it.

Never again.

Matt made it clear on joining what he hoped the Coalition could give. Zarra didn’t hesitate to inform him, crisp and curt, that all members were welcome to train whether they enlisted for combat or not.

The three Commanders brought him down to the training deck together that first time. They introduced him to Zarra’s crew of training captains and her second in command, who runs the whole thing under Zarra’s direction. Her _Galra_ second-in-command.

Matt would be lying if he said he’d been expecting that little gem. In all honesty he nearly backed away when he saw Ortraz, but his memories of Kranok stalled him long enough to let Leilani explain how many Galrans are in the Coalition, both former Empire and not.

Ortraz looms over Zarra at nearly double her size, an intimidating shadow. He holds himself with Zarra’s same militaristic stiffness, and his head dips just low enough to nearly obscure the facial scarring and the glow of just one working eye. But that fierce exterior is belied by how softly he speaks, how much deference and respect he shows toward Zarra and the other Commanders. From the start he was clearly like no Galra Matt had met before—an impression proven when Ortraz greeted Matt with an offered hand and murmured commendations on the prison rebellion.

Matt found himself returning the gesture without hesitation, although what he thought would be a handshake turned into a grasp of forearms and he noticed some tension ebbing from all three Commanders.

In retrospect, Matt thinks it was a way of them testing the waters, seeing how he would react to a Galran member of the Coalition. He was wary, sure, but that had more to do with how big Ortraz is than anything else. The dude could clearly rip Matt apart like tissue paper.

But Ortraz is quiet, kind, clearly devoted to the Coalition’s cause, and even more so to Zarra. The only time he’s not at her side is when he’s running recruits and veterans alike through their paces on the training deck.

Now here Matt is, voluntarily getting his ass beat into the ground every day because Ortraz is simply the best person on the ship for this.

Which is only proven as Matt finds himself knocked flat out, yet again.

“Okay, ow,” Matt groans, shifting to ease his weight off the small of his back, where the worst of the pain is centered. “How many times do you have to flip me on my back before it gets boring for you?”

“How many times are you going to keep striking high, even though your advantage in a fight against someone of my size and build is lower?” Ortraz crouches next to Matt’s head, and he’s definitely smiling now. “The tech is heavy, which you know because you move with it, but why not use that to your advantage? Knock someone out, hook an ankle, damage a knee. Make it easy for yourself, Holt. Not more difficult.”

Matt sighs, accepting the hand patiently offered to him, and gets to his feet with a hiss. Shit, okay, they might be done for the day, that really fucking hurt. Ortraz hums, looking him over with one glowing eye.

“Enough for today. Take a stretch. We will take a break tomorrow and work on weapons technique instead.”

“Don’t baby me, Ortraz,” Matt mutters, even if he’s silently thankful for the decision.

“It is not good to train to the same thing so repetitively,” Ortraz chides as he moves to stretch out himself. “You need variety, and to equally build your strengths and strengthen your weaknesses.”

“I don’t know how you manage to do it, but you always sound like some off-brand Mr. Miyagi personal trainer,” Matt sighs, stretching his arms over his head, arching his aching back. He feels like one big bruise. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s as purple as Ortraz at this point.

“I do not know what that is,” Ortraz says plainly, too used to Matt dropping references that essentially boil down to nonsense in the end. “But it is just good training sense. Things that were drilled into me in my life prior to all this, and things that I drill into all in the Coalition who wish to be trained.”

Matt sinks to the floor to stretch a little deeper, knowing he’ll regret skipping any steps. “What _was_ your life before the Coalition? I’ve never heard anybody say. Usually the other coders are jumping to give me backstory.”

“I was a gladiator.”

Matt sits straight up and ignores the pull of his hip flexors.

“I was their Champion for a time, actually. I fought in the arena and then later trained others, which is why Commander Zarra chose me to train our forces.” He says it all so simply, without betraying a hint of emotion, and just calmly continues to stretch out. 

“You...” Matt has to look down at the floor to collect himself. The arena. Ortraz spent God knows how long in the arena that Matt himself barely escaped. The one that took Shiro from him. He was their _Champion_. “I… I didn’t think anyone got out of the arena…”

“Most don’t.” Ortraz locks his fingers together and focuses on stretching out his long arms. “But there are levels. Galra who fight do not often intentionally fight to the death. It is a show of skill, and strength, but it is also a job. The risk is always there, but the true aim is not for death. It is for glory, and respect.”

“And the others?” Matt asks, his throat seizing tight. “The other levels?”

Ortraz is the one to drop his gaze this time, broad shoulders hunching in just enough to be noticeable. “Most of the others are slaves, assigned to the arena for reasons no one bothered to explain. That… that was part of why I left. The cruelty.”

It’s weird, for Matt, hearing the hesitation in Ortraz’s voice. Seeing the way he so slightly curls in on himself as if he’s ashamed.

Matt swallows. “Well, the Coalition is lucky to have you now.”

“ _I_ am lucky,” Ortraz corrects, hands falling to his lap. “I do not know what would have happened in my life if not for Commander Zarra. I cannot imagine it would be much of a life at all. The Empire does not take kindly to those who start to question what has always been.”

“Yeah… I can see that.” Matt pulls one leg in, hugging it close to his chest. It’s an effort to keep stretching and to steady himself as thoughts of the arena threaten to take center stage in his mind. He clears his throat, digging his fingers into what flesh is left on his legs. “Shit we’re getting bleak.”

Ortraz chuckles humorlessly. “There are few among us without some bleakness to their story.”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs again. His legs feel very heavy against the bare floor as he shifts, stretches the other side, waits for words to break the silence. Things don’t settle like this between them often, oddly enough, so he’s not quite sure how to get them back on track.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.” Ortraz watches Matt with a careful, curious eye.

“You didn’t,” Matt reassures, shaking his head. “Seriously, I’m fine. Just—I lost... someone to the arena. That’s all. It was a long time ago now and… I’ve got issues, like we all do, but it’s not worth bringing back up.” He flashes a grin while his stomach ties itself in knots. “I think it might be best if we just talk about something else.”

“Of course,” Ortraz dips his head. He pauses for a moment, pushing himself up to stand at his ridiculous full height. “Tell me about your work in the Hub. How goes the search for your father?”

Matt groans, a mix of frustration, and pain as he too gets to his feet again. “Don’t get me started.”

“I take it you are frustrated.”

“Bingo,” Matt says dryly. He reaches for the sheathed sword Ortraz had selected from the armory for him, slinging the strap over a shoulder. “That thing is a mess in so many ways. I don’t even know.”

Ortraz hums thoughtfully. “Have you spoken to Commander Kartok about it? If this is an issue with the Hub, not simply with information, he ought to know.”

“Do I even have the standing to bring it up to him? I’m just barely a coder.”

“Holt,” Ortraz says, gentle but firm, and waits until Matt looks up at him. “You are under his command. He needs to know. Talk to him.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Matt sighs, puffing his bangs out of his face. “I’ll track him down later. He usually stops for a check in before dinner. But if this blows up in my face I’m taking the bladed staff you say I’m not ready for and I’m vaulting it at your head.”

“That might be a threat if your aim was not so terrible,” Ortraz chuckles, clapping one massive hand to Matt’s shoulder. “Be easy, Holt. I will see you later.”

Matt waves him off and they go their separate ways, Ortraz presumably to go do whatever the hell a second in command does, Matt to clean up a bit before heading back to his searching through files. A new batch just came in from one of the Coalition allies, and Matt has some hope there might be something on his father waiting among the terabytes of data.

As he heads back to his quarters Matt nods at the familiar faces in the halls—coders off their shifts, a few of the other soldiers he’s trained with outside of Ortraz’s private sessions. He hasn’t made it a point to really get to know many of the other Coalition members, but no one seems to mind so far. Leilani was honest when they said that it’s common for people to come and go fairly frequently. Matt has already seen more than his fair share move on in the few months he’s been traveling with the Coalition, whether to on-planet bases or simply to their next thing.

With any luck he’ll be the next to have a reason to leave.

Matt’s really looking forward to a bit of time for himself, and a chance to wash up after training, but he’s stopped before he can turn down the hall to the living quarters.

“Holt. There you are.” Matt turns, surprised to hear Kartok’s low timbre.

“Commander,” he says, straightening his exhausted and lagging posture as Kartok approaches. “Did you need me?”

“Ah, not for anything in particular. I was just in the Hub and didn’t see you there.”  
  
Matt hoists the sword a little higher on his shoulder. “I was training with Ortraz.”

“Ah,” Kartok nods. “How is that going?”

“Uh, pretty well, I think.” Matt shrugs. “I can move a lot better with the legs now, but he still knocks me on my ass about a hundred times a session.” Enough that his hips and back are really aching as he stands here. He shifts his stance slightly to ease a pain.

Kartok chuckles, nodding knowingly. “Yes, that seems to be a common effect of his training. I am glad that it is working out with him. I will be the first to admit I was rather skeptical when Zarra informed of us your wishes to train with him.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that.” Matt shrugs. “I’m probably the last person you’d expect to volunteer to get thrown around the training room.”

“I was more concerned about your past interactions with Galrans coloring your current experiences here with us.” Kartok smiles, small and non-judgmental. “None of us would have blamed you had you been cautious.” 

“Ortraz isn’t the Empire, and he’s never done anything to hurt me. To treat him like he had would make me a shitty person, and I really don’t think I need to pile on any more character flaws to the ones I’ve already got going on.” Matt shifts again in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain throbbing at the base of his spine. “Is there anything else? Or…?"

“Well now that I’ve caught you, I think it might be good for us to sit down, and discuss your progress so far here with the Coalition.” Kartok turns, motioning up the hall he’s just come from with one massive hand. “Are you free now to talk?”

Matt glances in the direction of Kartok’s gesture, then looks back at his dark eyes. “Um, yeah, I’m free—I was just going to clean up, but if you need me right now that’s fine.”

“I will not keep you long. Come. We will go somewhere to sit and talk.” Kartok starts up the hall, leaving Matt with little to do but follow. He has to move quickly to keep up with Kartok’s long, powerful strides.

They don’t go very far, just to a small sort of common room that some of the coders and engineers hang out in after hours. Kartok takes a seat on the couch and readily invites Matt to do the same.

“So tell me,” he says as Matt sits down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping some distance between himself and the Commander. “How have you been finding your time here?”

So it’s going to be one of those talks. Matt’s really not sure why, but Kartok is fond of reaching out just about every week to check in on him. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t do it with everyone, and can’t figure out why Kartok has taken a particular interest in him, but it’s not like he minds it. It’s kind of nice.

“It’s been good,” Matt says, undoing the strap that holds his sword to his back, setting it on the table to the side. No need for it here. “Pretty standard, nothing’s really changed since we talked last.”

Kartok nods along as Matt speaks. “I know you are trying not to get too comfortable here. How is the search going for your father’s whereabouts?”

“That’s… that’s harder,” Matt sighs, thinking back to Ortraz’s advice. “I’ve been having trouble.”

“Because of the lack of information?”

“Partly,” he admits. “But, uh… well, it’s hard to work with the Hub.”

Kartok blinks in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Matt pushes his bangs out of his face and meets Kartok’s gaze head on. “To be honest, Commander—”  
  
“Please,” Kartok holds up a hand. “It is just us. I would prefer it if you simply used my name. I am only your arbitrary Commander after all.”

“Okay,” Matt nods, trying to relax a bit. “Kartok. The Hub is… I’m gonna be blunt. It’s a mess. I don’t know how anyone can find anything at all, let alone piece through and organize all the data that gets farmed through here from other bases and allies.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know if it’s just trying to work around the old Empire systems, or because the information is from all over the place with so many different operating systems or base code or whatever, but everything is so tangled up and there doesn’t seem to be any order to it at all.” Matt pauses and then frowns. “That makes it sound like the blame is on the coders, and that’s not what I’m getting at. They’re fine, but the systems themselves? I’d give an arm to go along with my legs to get a crack at rewiring the damn place.”

Kartok is quiet, just sitting there with his dark, thoughtful eyes resting calmly on Matt. He tries not to squirm under that gaze, meeting it instead with all the composure he can manage. Maybe he crossed a line criticizing the Hub, something that as far as Matt knows is solely under Kartok’s supervision and command, but it had to be said.

“I was unaware our systems were in such disarray,” Kartok says, brow furrowing. He shifts on his end of the couch, leaning forward so he can activate the holo projection software embedded in the table. “Why has no one brought this to my attention before?”

“I highly doubt anyone is doing the deep system searches and all the cross references I’m trying to,” Matt says carefully, watching Kartok pull up the communications application and deftly type out a message. “The Hub works fine. It could just be better.”

“What would it take to fix?”

“What?”

“To fix the Hub.” Kartok doesn’t look up from his message. Matt can just barely make out that it’s linked to both Leilani and Zarra, as well as Kartok’s own second-in-command, !oshi. “What would it take to fix it?”

“Uh…” Matt blinks, stalled for just a moment by the abruptness of the question, before his mind kicks into gear on the answer. “The equipment is fine, I think. I wouldn’t really know just from looking at it, no one would unless they got their hands in the circuitry, but if that’s the case it would be a lot of software work, a lot of writing code. Redesigning the way data is synced between the different ground bases. It’s a lot of the nitty gritty stuff, but it’s doable.” He shrugs. “In theory at least.”

Kartok nods, finishing up with his message, turning his attention back solely to Matt. “How long do you think it would take you?”

Matt blinks. “Take _me?”_

“You were the one to realize the extent of this problem, and you are the one with a plan for a solution.” Kartok dips his head with a smile. Matt gets a good look at the cracked, uneven remains of whatever used to be on top of Kartok’s head. He can’t shake that it has to have been antlers, the breaks looking too much like snapped sinew and bone for Matt to think of them as anything else.  “Who else should I turn to but you?”

“...I don’t have an answer for that.” Matt frowns, squinting his eyes over at Kartok. “You want me to… what? Rebuild and rewire the Communications Hub?”

“Yes." Kartok folds his hands in his lap. “Do whatever it is you think needs to be done, and when it is complete, the Hub will be yours.”

Matt’s frown deepens. “What do you mean, it’ll be mine?”

“I mean just that.” With his message to the other commanders sent and the holo screen waved away, Kartok stands up from the couch. “Choose who you’ll work with. I will also want to see a plan for alternate communication with the ground bases while you work.”

Matt scrambles to his feet, metal scraping against the bare floor in his hurry. “Are you serious?”

“I do not say things I do not mean. Communications, the Hub itself, is crucial to our operations. If improvements can be made, we ought to do so as quickly as possible. Do you not agree?”

“No, yeah, of course I do,” Matt says quickly. “I just—wow. Okay. I’ll get started on that.” He blinks and his gaze drifts away from Kartok in lingering disbelief. A low, chuffing noise fills the air, Kartok’s laughing.

“You look quite stunned,” Kartok smiles. “Is it really such a surprise?”

“I’ve only been here a couple months… cycles, whatever.” Matt looks up at him, really feeling the height difference in this moment. “There’s got to be other people with more experience, people who are more qualified to do this than me.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Kartok steps closer to him, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. Matt startles at the touch. The only one of the Commanders who’s made any overtures of touch is Leilani, and the weight of Kartok’s hand is very different. Heavy and warm, but not unpleasant. “I have faith in you, Holt.”

Matt makes himself take a deep breath and release it, only barely glancing away from Kartok this time. “Thanks. I’ll, uh—I’ll get to work.” He pauses before adding, “I can ask anyone to help me?”

“You have your pick of the staff you think would be capable.”

“Okay,” Matt says slowly, nodding. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

“Good.” Kartok nods, patting his shoulder before removing his hand. “I must go now. My fellow Commanders will be pleased to hear of these developments.”

“They will?” Matt can’t imagine why.

“Of course,” Kartok hums, stepping past him and heading for the door. “You have done extraordinary things in terrible circumstances, Holt. I can only imagine what you will accomplish with the freedom to do as you please.” He stops at the door, turning just enough to look back at Matt. “The Coalition is lucky to have you."

“I…” What does he say to that? “Thank you?”

“Be easy, Holt.” Kartok opens the door, smiling again. “We shall talk soon.”

Matt stays on his feet until his Commander is out the door, then sinks back onto the couch. He runs one hand roughly over his face.

“What the fuck just happened?” he mutters to himself. “I’m just rebuilding the entire Hub now? Seriously, Matt?” He sighs, unable to even begin to imagine what he just signed himself up for. It’s going to be… insane. As is so much about his life in the last few years. But even so… he can’t deny that he’s excited at the prospect.

Getting to build and design a new system, getting to shape the way the Coalition runs for the better? Something heavy and familiar falls into place in his chest. It’s the same feeling he got when he was accepted to the Kerberos mission, the same feeling he got when Shiro once took his hand and he realized they were doing something great together.

It takes him a minute to realize that it’s hope.

After a year of hell, of losing damn near everything, followed by months of failed searches for his father, he has something to hope for again.

It’s different. It’s weird.

It’s the first time since the arena Matt thinks he might almost be happy.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ow, fuck!”

Martek’s dry voice carries across the cluttered Hub. “Did you burn yourself again?”

Matt scowls at his hidden assistant while he sucks the definitely-not-a-burn on his hand. “No. Shut up.”

“Right.” A head pops up above one of the consoles they moved away from the wall. “We should take a break.”

“We don’t need a break, Martek, I’m _fine—_ ”

“We’re taking a break now.”

With a resigned sigh, Matt puts away the tool in his hand and starts getting to his feet. “You’re way too pushy. You’re supposed to be my assistant. That means I make the decisions, Martek.”

“If you wanted someone to follow you blindly, then I was the wrong person to ask for help, Holt.” Martek pushes the goggles he wore up onto his head, the straps hanging loose now around his pointed ears. “It is good that we break anyway. We have been working for several of your hours and it would not do well for us to lose track of the time again.”

“Okay, they’re not ‘my’ hours. It’s a measurement of time, Martek. I didn’t just make it up.” Matt rolls his eyes, working his way through the piles of wires and circuitry they haven’t figured out how to rework yet. He feels something catch at his ankle joint.

Dammit. Not again.

“You are the only one who knows it, and yet you continually insist on using it.” Martek claims a seat on the one clear surface left in the place. “Would it not be more efficient to learn and use the more general measurements and vernacular? Fully embrace your position here?”

“I’m neck deep in wires. Is that not enough embracing?” He starts fiddling with the wire that slipped itself into his ankle.

“You know what I mean.”

Matt waves him off with a muttered, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Are you going to come take a break or not?”

A glance up from the materials trying to tangle around his feet shows Martek giving him a flatly unamused look. “Believe it or not, I’m trying. I’m a little trapped here at the moment,” he says grumpily, rolling his eyes.

“It’s nearly the end of the day,” Martek points out. “We could use the rest of the time to neaten it up a bit for tomorrow.”

Matt grunts, aiming for noncommittal, and ending up just edging around distressed as a tug of his ankle nearly sends him flying. “Fuck!”

Martek sighs. Matt refuses to look at him and see his exasperated frown. Instead he crouches down, servos whirring, to unhook the wire and pull his foot free. Maybe cleaning up isn’t such a bad idea.

It takes another minute for Matt to reach a clear floorspace, nearly ending up tangled yet again in the process, and he sags down against the wall with a sigh. “Okay, yeah, organizing. I’m sick of shit slipping in between the plating.”

“Good,” Martek nods. He taps a sequence on the table top, pulling up a diagnostic screen. Matt can make out the outlines of all too familiar graphs and readings from where he sits. “The code is finished synthesizing into the main system. So that at least is done.”

“Give me an estimate till we’re up and running.” Matt flicks his eyes from the blurry graphs to Martek instead. “I’m supposed to meet with Kartok later. It’d be nice to tell him something good.”

“We are already ahead of your proposed timeline,” Martek hums, long fingers moving quick and sure over the screens. “At the rate we are going… I would give us another… twelve days? Possibly longer if we run into another circuitry issue. We did this much faster than I thought possible when you first brought me the idea.”

That’s putting it lightly. Matt had basically shanghaied his then roommate, now roommate/assistant into the project. He’s lucky Martek said yes with minimal prompting, as intrigued by the opportunity as he was. If Matt’s being honest, the real piece of luck comes from Commander Leilani pairing him with Martek in the first place, and how well they’d hit it off from the start.

Small and slight, barely more than a slip of a thing, Martek surprised Matt with his humor and quick wit, and he won him over by meeting his eyes first, and not the legs. So many of the Coalition sneak glances and trade murmurs, apparently thinking him blind and deaf in addition to being some space-Frankenstein's monster, but Martek never once seemed to notice or care.

Matt loves him a little bit for that.

Even if he can be a snarky shit sometimes.

Matt closes his eyes, sighing. They’re so close to being done. Not bad considering it’s just the two of them here. It’s been a long few weeks.

“Not bad,” he murmurs.

“Are the Commanders displeased with our work?” Martek looks over to Matt through the holoscreen, now a diagnostic reading of the consoles that are up and running with a hum along the walls.

“Who knows?” Matt shrugs. He reaches down to inspect the foot that got tangled, rotating the joint carefully. Last thing he needs is to fuck up some tiny inner piece that’s impossible to get to without cracking open the casing. “I can’t get a clear enough read on any of them half the time.”

Martek hums, his gaze flicking back to the diagnostics, and leaves Matt to fret over his mechanics in silence.

Once he’s confirmed that his ankle’s intact as far as he can tell, Matt leans against the wall again with a sigh. “What’s the deal with them anyway?”

“Hmm? Who?” Martek frowns over the holo screen.

“The Commanders. I can’t figure any of them out. Like… what’s their deal with each other?” Matt says, making a face. “You know how Leilani and Kartok can get. Super affectionate and everything.”

Martek shrugs. “They’re kin. Nothing that I have seen has been unusual for their level of kinship.”

“Kin?” Matt repeats, puzzling over the word. Where has he heard that before? _Kin_ … Oh. Mir. Mir had referred to him as his father’s kin when they’d met. “They’re related?”

“What? No.” Martek frowns, peering over the screen to get a better look at Matt. “No, the Commanders are not related by blood in the slightest.”

“I think I’m misunderstanding what that word means, then.” Matt frowns. “What is it?”

“Kinship is a connection,” Martek says, as if he’s explaining to a child. “A strong bond, a chosen one. But it is not necessarily for family.”

“So like, romantic partners? Lovers?” Matt wrinkles his nose.

“I… No? Yes? It’s a bond,” Martek repeats. “Something deep and emotional. Personal. There are many levels of it, and each bond is wholly unique for each person. For our Commanders it’s something forged by many years of sharing experiences together, and yes, an even deeper love. At least that is what’s said.”

“So they’re in love.” It’s easy to picture. Leilani is openly affectionate, Matt’s seen them press fond kisses to Kartok’s hands or temples, and even one to Zarra, right between her ears.

“In a way,” Martek nods. With a swipe of his hand he dismisses the screen and gets to his feet. “From what I know and have heard, that is how it is for Commanders Leilani and Kartok. I’m not sure how Commander Zarra fits in exactly, but I do know that for her people, kin was something sacred. Held above all else.”

“Was?”

“Commander Zarra is one of the last of her kind.”

Matt shifts over, back pressed against the wall, so Martek can sit next to him.

“What happened to them?” Matt asks quietly once Martek has settled in. “Her people?”

Martek shrugs and fiddles with a short scrap of wire. “They had been fighting the Empire for… I don’t know how long. Longer than she’d been alive. They were wiped out but she escaped and joined the Coalition. Became a Commander. That’s what I’ve heard, at least.”

“God,” Matt breathes, carding a hand through his hair. “I never would have guessed. She’s so… well I probably should have been able to guess. With how stoic and quiet she is.”

“She is different with the Commanders.” Martek folds his fingers together in his lap. “And with her second. She is different with kin.”

“Ortraz? He’s her kin too?”

Martek nods. “Since the injury that cost him his eye.”

They’re basically in gossip territory now and Matt doesn’t care. “What happened? Why would that make them kin?”

“He saved her,” Martek says, sitting up a little straighter. “You haven’t heard the story?”

“You’re like the only person I talk to, aside from Ortraz himself,” Matt points out with a shrug. “And you can’t just go up to a guy before you’re about to let him kick you all over the training room and be like ‘Yo, what happened to your eye?’”

Martek chuckles. “Fair enough. I can’t remember the name of the planet, but they were fighting with a local rebel group when Commander Zarra was nearly ambushed. I’ve heard they would have taken her head with the strike except that Ortraz jumped between her and the weapon.” His eyes sparkle conspiratorially. “Commander Leilani tended to him, and when he woke Commander Zarra had declared him her second in command and he has never left her side since.”

“He _would_ be the self sacrificial type.” Matt doesn’t try to stop the laugh that presses at his lips, shaking his head. “I always seem to bond with those kinds of idiots.” He can’t help but think of Shiro, of the arena, hitting the ground— _Take care of your father_ , that heartbreaking smile, how bitter his name tasted that very last time…

Matt breathes in sharp, shutting that train of thought right the fuck down.

“So, um—” He forces himself to reroute. “How does the kin thing work? How does the, uh, bond form?”

Martek shrugs. “It differs from person to person, bond to bond. Some are forged like Ortraz and Commander Zarra’s, in a moment of intensity, while others develop over time like the other Commanders’. I’m sure there are other ways as well.”

“Then what makes it different from friendship?”

“For some it’s not. Each bond is singularly unique to the individual,” Martek reminds him. “For others… it can supplement a romantic relationship or a familial one. Kin is the most important thing for some.” Martek folds his legs in, shifting a bit more toward Matt. “Is there nothing similar on your planet?”

“Not really? Not speaking from my own experience anyway,” Matt shrugs. “For me, family has always been the most important thing. I’m really close with my sister… or I was.” He deflates at the thought of little Katie. God he can’t even begin to imagine all he’s missed, or what she’s been going through. Both him and Dad gone, lost.

Martek tilts his head quizzically. “Was? What happened?”

Matt sighs, “I, uh… you know I was captured.” Martek nods affirmation. “I was on a mission away from Earth, away from our planet—we’d been gone about six months or so. Just the three of us, me, my dad, and—and the pilot.” He swallows hard and closes his eyes momentarily. “Then an Empire ship came out of nowhere and got us. And that’s about it.”

“Your father, he was in prison with you, yes?” Martek asks, voice just a touch softer now. “I know you search Empire files we receive for his whereabouts.”

“Yeah. He got transferred somewhere sometime after I got the legs.” Matt raps his knuckles against a knee, an unpleasant shiver settling low at the base of his spine at the dull ringing in the air from the metal. “There was nothing in the prison databases, so I didn’t really have a lead to go on and now I’m just kind of grasping at straws. Hopefully fixing this mess will make it easier,” he waves a flippant hand at the deconstructed Hub.

Martek nods, humming softly in acknowledgment. “And the pilot?”

“The arena,” Matt bites out, voice clipped. “I was supposed to fight first and he went in my place. Saved me. And I got sent to the mine with my dad.” His throat is trying to close up on him but he squares his jaw and refuses to give in.

Martek’s ears droop, just a bit, clearly reading Matt’s shift in mood. “How terrible,” he murmurs. “You were close with him?”

“He was my best friend.” The words are nothing but true, and yet they feel wrong on his tongue. “Probably the closest thing I’d had to kin the way you described it.”

“I’m sorry,” Martek reaches out a hand to cover one of Matt’s own. The touch is light and gentle, Martek’s fingertips feel like paper against his skin. “I truly am, Holt.”

 _My name is Matt_ , he wants to say, _Call me Matt!_ He so desperately wants to be known, to hear his name again from someone who seems like they’d care to know it. Matt swallows against the urge, pulls his hand from Martek’s touch.

“It’s in the past,” Matt mutters, looking away. “Better not to dwell on things you can’t change.”

Martek looks hesitant but doesn’t move to contradict Matt. “I—yes.” They let a brief silence settle uneasily between them before Martek breaks it with, “Should we start organizing?”

Matt gives himself another second to gather himself before he answers. “Yeah, let’s do it.” He pushes himself to his feet with a groan, offering Martek a hand up once he’s standing again. The air between them feels heavy. Matt clears his throat in an attempt to move past it. “Handle the wires?” he asks with a shadow of a grin. “Last thing we need is me getting tangled again.”

“We should keep a tally,” Martek mirrors the smile, though subdued. “And write the final number somewhere, and never explain what it’s for.”

“I like the way you think,” Matt chuckles, turning to head toward the pile of scrap metal from a disassembled console. “I’m going to work on circuitry and figuring out what we’re not going to repurpose while you—”

A sharp beep cuts him off, coming from the main operating system at the center of the hub.

Matt frowns and mutters, “Ah, dammit.” He starts making his way toward the main console instead. It beeps again. “I’m coming!” he snaps.

“It can’t hear you—”

“I know, Martek.”

Only one wire attempts to snag him this time, he shakes it off easily. The console screen is lit up with an incoming call from Kartok. Matt quickly answers. “Commander?”

“Holt,” Kartok says calmly. “I wanted to check in before we meet. How is your progress?”

“Uh, not bad, Martek and I were just looking at what we’re doing for the rest of the day.” Matt glances around at the mess surrounding him and hopes Kartok doesn’t want to come see it in person. “Are we still meeting the same time and place?”

“As long as you do not need to change it.” He pauses to let Matt answer before continuing. “You will bring your readings and plans?”

“Yeah, of course, everything I’ve got right now.” Explaining the work to Kartok was a pain in the ass at first, but Matt knows in the end he’ll be glad his commander knows what the hell is going on in here. Especially for whoever takes over the Hub when he leaves.

“Good. Commanders Leilani and Zarra will be joining us. I wanted to give you some warning.”

Matt blinks. All three of the commanders, together? He hasn’t been in the same room with the three of them at once since the day they met. “Yeah,” he manages, shaking off the sudden sprouting of nerves. “Sounds good. See you in a bit.”

“Be easy, Holt.” With that now-familiar Coalition farewell, Kartok ends the call and leaves Matt to run his hands through his roughly chopped hair.

“All three of the Commanders?”

Matt turns to see Martek frowning, a veritable knot of wires in his hands. “Is that bad?”

Martek shrugs, going back to his untangling task. “Not necessarily. But it is unusual.”

“Guess I’ll just have to bring a full recap with me then,” Matt muses, really trying not to get his hackles raised at the new pressure added to what was supposed to be just a diagnostic check in. Martek hums his agreement, but doesn’t break away from his work.

Matt sighs and shakes off the nerves before they can really take root. There’s nothing to worry about. He knows what he’s doing here, and Kartok has been more than pleased with the work that’s been done so far. There’s no reason for Leilani or Zarra to think any differently.

Between the two of them, the Hub is looking more like an almost functional space instead of a scrap heap, and Matt parts ways with Martek for his meeting with a grin.

Matt heads for their usual meeting space, a small room near the command deck with a table and a few chairs. He kind of hopes he’s the first one there so he can get set up before the Commanders arrive. There’s no sign of any of them in the halls.

Tucking the datapad with all his materials under his arm, Matt presses his hand against the keypad, startled like always that it actually opens at his touch. He steps inside to find that he’s definitely not alone.

“Oh,” Matt blinks, faltering in the doorway. Leilani and Kartok are already inside, sitting nice and close at the table, practically on top of one another. “Uh… sorry?”

They both look up, Kartok’s hand still resting in Leilani’s fingers where they’d been kissing his palm. Leilani’s brilliant smile fills the room.

“Holt,” they say as they gently release Kartok’s hand. “It is good to see you. Kartok told you that Zarra and I would be here?”

“Uh, yeah, he did.” Matt shifts awkwardly before deciding to take a step in. He takes the datapad to his usual seat and tries not to watch the two commanders too obviously. Still, he can see when Kartok leans over to kiss Leilani’s temple, and they chuckle softly at his affection.

Kin. Right.

Okay.

Matt syncs his pad with the room’s interface and pulls up streams of data, both new and things Kartok has seen before, wanting to give a full overview for Leilani and Zarra, before really digging into his plans. He can’t help but be aware of how close the two commanders sit, the way Kartok leans over to murmur so softly into Leilani’s ear, the light ring of their laugh in answer to his words.

It’s… kind of cute to be honest.

He’s just about to ask how long Zarra will be when the door opens again and the third Commander herself walks in. She’s sporting a small wound on one cheek and looking slightly aggravated.

“Oh, Zarra,” Leilani tuts, pulling away from Kartok when they see her.

She sighs. “The newest batch started training on glaives today.” Leilani motions her toward themself and, to Matt’s surprise, she goes instead of stoically waving away the attention.

“Must you dive in when they are still lacking control and jumpy?” Kartok frowns as Zarra lets Leilani take her face in two of their gentle hands. The other two land on her waist. Matt thinks he’s the only one that’s noticed. “You have Ortraz for a reason.”

“They are still too hesitant around him,” Zarra huffs. “Too timid. They have not yet learned that I am the one to fear of the two of us. All the more if they do not leave their prejudices.” She winces when her scowl pulls at the cut. “Why can they not all be like you?”

It takes Matt a minute to realize that was directed at him. He doesn’t think Zarra’s addressed him directly since the day he left the prison. “Me?”

“You have never flinched from Ortraz.” The burnt orange of her eyes seems to glow as she looks to him. “You perhaps more than any I’ve seen would have just cause to.”

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” Matt says, pinned in place by her gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s a pretty intimidating guy just by like, height and build alone. But he’s your second for a reason and…” He shrugs. “I was helped by a Galra. I’m alive because a Galra did what he really didn’t have to. He could have followed orders and let me die, but he didn’t. So… yeah.” Matt shrugs again, all too aware of Leilani and Kartok’s eyes resting heavy on him now as well. “Ortraz is fucking scary, but not because of his race.”

Zarra makes a small noise and then hisses, distracted, when Leilani places cool fingers over her wound.

“Hush,” Leilani chides. “It will only be a moment.”

“This is unnecessary,” Zarra mutters, but Matt watches in astonishment as she visibly relaxes under the touch and lets Leilani heal her.

When they’re finished, Leilani leans in and places a tiny kiss between Zarra’s ears. They flick slightly but she doesn’t protest, just smiles softly at Leilani before taking her seat. Matt is really, truly trying not to stare.

“So, Holt.” Kartok reroutes everyone’s focus so abruptly that Matt feels dizzy for a second as the Commanders’ attention turns to him. “What do you have for us?”

“Right,” Matt blinks, pulling himself together. He’s supposed to be presenting the Hub’s progress, that’s still a thing he needs to be doing. “Uh so… What have you shared with them? Just so I get an idea where to actually start?”

“Every update and progress report you have sent me, I have shared.” Kartok relaxes back into his seat, offering Matt a small smile.  
  
“We are very impressed with what you have done in so short a time,” Leilani chimes in, resting one hand over Kartok’s on the arm of his chair. “Especially when you yourself originally estimated the project to take nearly forty cycles.”

“Right. At this point Martek and I think it’ll be about twelve more.” He pulls up the plans onto the holoscreen over the table and launches into the explanation. It’s unexpectedly gratifying to get sincere questions from all three of them throughout, although he can’t quite shake the confusion of seeing them all so… close. Open, touchy. He’s never seen this side of them before.

He can’t decide how he feels about that.

Matt doesn’t really know what to make of all this, but being here, being privy to this feels very intimate. The touches have all been innocent, and clearly platonic, but there’s something about the way that they all react and respond to each and every one that makes Matt feel like he’s being allowed to see something special.

Martek’s words about kin ring clear in his mind. A connection, something deep and personal. It’s when Zarra’s ears flicker and her eyes close as Leilani takes her hand that it hits him. This is them being vulnerable. This is, in a way, a show of trust.

They trust him. With the Hub—to fix it and, if Kartok keeps his promise, to run it—and they trust him to see them together like this.

Something in his chest throbs, that ever-present ache going sharp and breathtaking for a moment. They trust him. And to his surprise, he’s grateful.

It makes being here for a little while longer seem almost worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt is going to lose his fucking mind.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Why is she letting them talk to her like that?”

Ortraz sighs at his side, head tipped down so his hood covers his face. It hides his scars, the lantern glow of his remaining eye, and apparently helps to set those unfamiliar with non-Empire Galran interaction at ease.

“Commander Zarra knows what she is doing,” Ortraz rumbles, not directing the focus of his attention away from their three commanders and the leaders they’re meeting with at the table. The Coalition is taking their cause to a planet that serves as a refugee nation of sorts. Beings of all races and kinds hide from the Empire here, and the Coalition offers aid and an opportunity to join their ranks for any who wish to take it.

Apparently it’s also home to some of the rudest fucking leaders, who have issues with someone like Zarra being military head of the Coalition forces. Matt doesn’t know if it’s her size, her gender, or whatever, but they copped a disrespectful attitude toward her right from the start, and none of the Commanders seem like they’re going to do anything about it.

Fucking ridiculous.

Matt rolls his eyes. “Don’t stand there and act like this isn’t pissing you off.”

“It is not my job to show outrage over every mistreatment,” Ortraz murmurs back, dipping his head slightly lower when one of the leaders glances his way. “I am here as her second in command, not as guardian of anyone’s dignity.”

“That doesn’t mean shit. You’re pissed, just like I am, and you don’t get to pretend you’re not.” Matt narrows his eyes as the bigger leader, clearly a classic alpha-male stereotype, outright scoffs at Zarra’s analysis of their training force’s daily regimen. He can almost picture this guy wearing a “meninist” t-shirt and harassing baristas back on Earth. Ridiculous.

Matt knows he’s not imagining the growing tension in Zarra’s shoulders. She’s holding herself so tight he can almost feel his own muscles knotting up just from looking at her. Ortraz sighs again, but he doesn’t deny his frustration this time.

Leilani’s voice breaks through the cloud of irritation, clearly hoping to smooth things over. “Why don’t we move on? Holt, I believe you have materials to cover?”

He immediately drops his arms to his side and steps forward with a nod. “Yes, I do.”

Kartok keys in a sequence on the tabletop, pulling up some of the most current readings from the Hub.

“We’ve only recently got the Communications Hub back up, and so far everything has been running smoothly.” Matt looks at his figures instead of the leaders. “All of our tech has been re-calibrated for a new system designed by myself and one other coder. We’ve spent the last dozen cycles testing that software with allies’ systems, and we haven’t had any hiccups yet. This is the same type of system we’d integrate to your own communications network if you were to choose to ally with us.”

He’s given this speech at least a dozen times since finishing the Hub and becoming the communications head, and it hasn’t really stopped being weird. To speak with authority and know he’s being listened to. To be able to tell even the Commanders what needs to happen. What’s even weirder, though, is that they’ve started asking his opinion on things that aren’t necessarily his jurisdiction.

The last time he experienced anything like that was with Mir, and then with the engineers, but even that was different. That felt like he was borrowing whatever power he might have had; it felt wrong to have people look to him for answers.

This is different. It kind of feels he deserves it this time.

“All in all it’ll be a simple link up, if your systems are as updated as the report says,” Matt finishes, looking away from the screens and to the two leaders at the table. “Any questions?”

“What do you know about our systems?” the big one asks with a grunt. He eyes Matt with clear distrust and open skepticism. “What report is this?”

“The report your communications team sent in response to the data link up I requested when the Coalition was granted this meeting.” Matt arches a brow. “I had assumed you were aware of the contact, and that you had authorized the exchange.”

Big guy bristles, the fur-like covering all over his body literally standing a bit on end, puffing up all around him and making him look even bigger. “What are you implying?” he demands, not even bothering to try to suppress his annoyance. Kartok sits a touch straighter, tense and on edge at the lasting shift in tone. Matt doesn’t think there’s anything to worry about.

“I’m not implying anything.” Matt shrugs, aiming to be as dismissive as he thinks he can get away with. He's never really tested that limit before, tested just how much he could actually get away with concerning dignitaries and allies, but he was definitely having a go at it now. “My team did their due diligence, and yours did the same. Even if they didn’t inform you they were doing it in the first place.”

“I don’t like what you’re—”

“Be easy, friends,” Leilani interrupts calmly, two of their hands folded on the table in front of them, the other two hidden in their lap. “I think perhaps it is best we end this meeting here. You will have time to consider all of your options, and consult with your own people, before we reconvene in the next cycle. We will move forward with all we discussed earlier.”

The second leader nods, speaking up for the first time in a while. “I think you may be right. We shall—”

“No.” Big Guy pushes to his feet, eyes narrowed at Matt. The movement is jerky and abrupt and Matt is pretty sure it was meant to intimidate him, but he doesn’t even flinch. This guy is all bunched up muscles and poorly timed temper. He’s got tells a mile long. “I’m not done with this one.”

“Oh good,” Matt drawls, rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. “It’s nice to see that you’re openly a hypocrite. I’d hate to have to wait to find that bullshit out.”

“What?!” Big Guy barks, eyes flashing. Matt calmly meets them head on, Leilani sighs, and Kartok folds his hands together, arching a brow up at Matt. “You dare speak to me—”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Matt snarks right back at him, the frustration with his attitude bubbling up and over now. “You’ve sat here this whole time rolling your eyes and acting like you’re better than this, when the fact of the matter is, you need us. We've seen your training stats, your program’s a mess. But there you sit, talking down to Commander Zarra and jumping down my throat the minute you hear something you don’t like.” Matt claps his hands together, nice and slow. “Great show of diplomacy there, just awesome.”

He can see Zarra shaking her head from the corner of his eye, and Ortraz shifting toward her. Okay, maybe the clapping was a touch too condescending. Whatever.

“Holt,” Kartok says, his voice crisp enough that it instantly draws Matt’s attention. His eyes are serious but not angry when Matt meets his dark gaze. “That is enough.”

Matt’s posture stiffens. He’s not in charge here, as entitled as he might feel to matters concerning his Hub. He nods at Kartok, mutters, “Yes, Commander,” and pulls down his presentation materials.

Big Guy watches him, tense and almost expectant. If he’s waiting for an apology directed right at him, he can fuck right off. Matt doesn’t even spare him a glance, stepping back to Ortraz’s side while Leilani stands to formally end the meeting.

“Don’t say it,” Matt mutters, crossing his arms tightly over his chest again. Leilani smoothes over any ruffled feathers, reaching out to press their palms to the leaders’ in this planet’s gesture of agreement and camaraderie. He doesn’t know how they do it, all kind, yet firm smiles, unrelenting pleasantness even in the face of utter crap.

“I did not say anything,” Ortraz rumbles from deep in his chest.

Matt misses his chance to roll his eyes again as Kartok and Zarra stand, prompting Kartok’s quiet second, !oshi, to lead the refugee leaders from the room. Ortraz watches them go and moves to stand behind Zarra’s chair like a hulking Galran shadow.

“Holt.” Kartok sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “Stay a moment.”

Well, he knew this was coming. Matt swallows back a sigh and the anxiety that bubbles under his skin at the thought of having truly overstepped. He waits until the door is shut behind the leaders before speaking. “I’m not sorry.”

“Oddly enough, I think we knew that,” Kartok hums, fingers locking together in his lap again. His lips tilt upwards at the corners, just enough so Matt truly knows he’s not upset. “I am not looking for an apology, Holt.”

“You’re not?” Matt frowns, confused.

“You said what we were all thinking,” Zarra huffs before Kartok can do more than open his mouth. “Though there are reasons we held our tongues.” She sits tense in her chair, everything about her wound tight. Matt gets the sense she’s a little upset.

“I got frustrated.” It takes everything in him not to tense up himself. Feels like he’s jumping on the defense, and he doesn’t need to. He’s never had any reason to be like that with the Commanders before, and there isn’t one now. “The way they were talking to you… It just pissed me off. You deserve way more respect than that.”

Zarra holds his gaze, searching for something, before relaxing. Tension seeps out of her shoulders and she nods. “I appreciate the sentiment. Even if it was rather poorly executed.”

“Yeah, well.” Matt shrugs. “I’m just your Hub tech. What does anyone really care if I mouth off?”

“It would make my life easier if you did not,” Leilani says, smile so warm and friendly that any real reprimand dies instantly. “Although I cannot find much motivation to be upset. Neither of our guests were... overly pleasant.” They laugh softly.

Matt smiles back, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “At least it’s over and done with? You get to look through the new recruits now, and we’ll be gone after the meeting tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes, about that,” Kartok says, glancing over at a datapad and tapping a few things into it. “I’d like you to come with me. You need new staff for the Hub, yes?”

“Considering it’s mostly me and Martek right now, I really do. Are there coders in the group?”

“A few. I think there are also some promising recruits for the smaller strike teams we discussed.”

Matt straightens up, a little surprised. “You want _me_ to look at them? I’m not a soldier.”

“The teams were your idea, Holt,” Kartok reminds him, chuckling. Matt would swear it sounds outright fond. “And if they are to be used primarily for information gathering, yes, you should be there. I have asked Captain Rel to join us as well.”

“Oh. Okay.” Matt nods. He’ll feel better about offering his opinion with a good soldier like Rel there to comment on things Matt really knows nothing about. Brains, sure, he can talk about somebody’s intelligence and talent all day. But physical potential like the strike soldiers will need? Not exactly his area.

Kartok smiles at him, clearly pleased. “Good. I will meet you down there, I must speak with Leilani and Zarra first. The most viable candidates have already been brought to the training deck and they are waiting for you.”

“Ortraz will walk down with you.” Zarra nods at her second, who instantly removes himself from Zarra’s side to stand at Matt’s instead. “Choose well, Holt. We trust your judgment.”  
  
He blinks at that but nods. “Thank you. I’ll, uh—I’ll try.”

It’s almost in a daze that he leaves the room with Ortraz, heading right down to the training deck to look at these refugee recruits. He appreciates the Commanders’ trust but… this is a lot. Choosing who to offer a place in the Coalition? That’s kind of a huge responsibility.

Although, to be fair, they've shown time and time again that they already trust him with the whole of the communications for a sprawling intergalactic network of allies. So there’s that.

“Are you alright?” Ortraz rumbles about halfway there. He’s pushed his hood back now that it’s only their own people around. “You are oddly quiet.”

“I’m processing.” Matt looks up at him. “Zarra barely speaks to me, then goes ahead and compliments me, while I’m also being told that I’m being trusted to give recommendations for staffing both the Hub _and_ the strike teams, that apparently are actually happening now. It’s a lot.”

“The strike teams will be good,” Ortraz says, clasping his hands behind his back as they walk. “It was a good idea. I am not surprised Commander Kartok approved of it.”

“I was just talking when I said it though.” Matt shakes his head. Driven mainly by frustration at the lack of concrete leads on his father, he’d definitely just been running his mouth when he’d brought up the idea. Several small, combat ready, infiltrative teams to gather information on the countless Empire bases and outposts they’re always skimming past. Something out of a movie really. “I didn’t think he’d actually take me seriously.”

“The Pillars take you very seriously, Holt. Surely by now that is clear.”

Matt shrugs. “I guess. I mean he did let me rebuild the Hub.”

“I think that was less ‘letting’ you and more recognizing what you could offer,” Ortraz says. “You have wrought many improvements even in your short time here.”

“Jesus, slow your roll! What’s with all the ego stroking?” Matt jokes, with a grin up at Ortraz.

He looks slightly confused. “It is only the truth. Your contributions are invaluable.”

“You’re a cool dude, Ortraz.” Matt reaches up to pat him on the shoulder, barely managing to reach with Ortraz’s ridiculous height. “Easily my favorite person to use Earth expressions on. Martek just sighs at me."

“A great honor,” Ortaz drawls. “I thought it would be Rel.”

“Rel’s just awesome in general,” Matt grins easily. It’s hard not to when he thinks about the Coalition fighter he’s easily become closest with. He’ll admit he’d been skeptical when Ortraz suggested bringing in a few other people to their training. _It’ll be good to experience other fighting styles,_ he’d said, and in retrospect he’d been right.

Matt can hardly believe what he’s capable of now, how strong he feels and how confident he is in his ability to hold his own in a fight. Rel has been a big part of that.

“He is a good fighter and friend,” Ortraz agrees, nodding.

“Definitely. Think he’d stay involved with this strike team thing?”

“If you asked, I am sure he would.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think I have the authority to steal people from Zarra’s command. That’s on Kartok. If he took the strike team suggestion seriously, though, maybe he’d listen if I asked him to get Rel in on it permanently.”

Ortraz shrugs. “We will have to see.” He scans one hand to open the door to the largest training room and waits for Matt to step inside before following.

All of the recruits go quiet, which has Matt faltering, until Martek appears and hands him a datapad. “Commander Kartok said you’d need this. It has all the information we’ve gotten on these people. Do you need me?”

“Maybe?” Matt takes the pad, skimming through the top file. “He wants me to look at some of the candidates and make recommendations for the Hub. Wanna help?”

“I can if you’d like me to.”  
  
“Cool.” Matt glances up from the screen of the pad. “So… we just get started, I guess?” He glances up at Ortraz for confirmation, and gets only a silent nod in response. “Okay then.”

There’s quite a collection waiting for them, such a wide variety of different types of people. This is a refugee planet, after all, he supposes. But even knowing that, Matt can’t help but be surprised by just how diverse everyone is. A good number of the species he recognizes either from other Coalition members or his fellow former prisoners, but it’s just a testament to the reach of the Empire that even more are new to him.

“Okay,” he mutters again, just to himself. Profiles are probably a good place to start. Whoever compiled this conveniently added a “tech skills” label, so he pulls that up and starts flicking through names and faces.

Two profiles catch his notice immediately from the pile, one with high potential for tech, and another with an impressive combat training record. He opens them side by side, noting with mild surprise that they’re both Galran.

One male, one female, and they’re young. _Really_ young, if he’s remembering what Ortraz has told him about Galran development correctly. Refugees based here for most of their lives, separated from their parents practically as infants and bounced around between caregivers for years, but if the profiles are right they’ve spent that time picking up everything they can about tech and computers and—in the female’s case—combat.

He’s about to wave Martek back over from where he'd drifted to help him find these two among the crowd when the door opens for Kartok.

Again the recruits go silent, which only makes it weirder that it happened with him and Ortraz. They’re nothing special—well, Matt isn’t at least—but Kartok’s a pretty big deal. He strides into the room, heading right for where Matt and Martek stand, and he’s not alone. Rel trails close at his back.

“Commander. Captain.” Matt greets them both formally.

“Holt,” Rel dips his head in greeting. He stands just at height with Kartok, built like a fucking brick wall, yet weirdly silent with his steps and graceful in his movements. Kartok just smiles, spreading his hands as they approach.

“Have you made much progress?”

“Just started,” Matt admits. “But I think I found something promising.” He offers out the pad to his commander. “I was just about to try to track them both down.”

Kartok hums thoughtfully as he looks over the profiles. “Both for the Hub?”

“Maybe. Definitely the male. The female might work for the strike teams,” he says hesitantly. “The captain’s probably a better judge of that, though.” He smiles a little at Rel, who nods.

“I would be happy to assess her and any others. Shall we find them?”

Kartok nods at them when he looks up from the pad. “We need to start somewhere. It may as well be with these two.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find them,” Matt muses, squinting around, like that’s going to help anything. “They might be young, but they’re Galran. How much you want to bet they’re both taller than I am?”

“It would not be a wise bet to go against,” Rel notes, with complete and total seriousness, and what Matt knows is a playful glint in his eye. “I think I can see them on the far side of the group.”

It’s a big group. Matt doesn’t really want to take all these people all the way over there. He glances over his shoulder and waves Ortraz over. “Hey, can you do your training yell thing and get these two over here?”

Ortraz probably would’ve rolled his eye if there were any way to tell, but he looks at the names on the profiles and calls in a carrying rumble, “Jion! Zetri!”

There’s a little gasp and a small scramble from the other side of the room where Rel had spotted them. It only takes moments for Matt to see the two lanky young Galrans making their way through the crowd, both looking nervous.

As they approach Matt can tell that Zetri has more of an eager energy behind her nerves, while Jion just looks shy. Both their eyes widen a little at the sight of Ortraz.

“They’re just kids,” Matt murmurs to Ortraz, who nods gravely in confirmation.

“Pups,” he murmurs, brow furrowed deeply. “Their fur is too light for them to be out from under their mothers’ grasp.”

“Welcome to the Coalition,” Kartok greets them both with a warm smile. “We are glad to have you join us, and we know it is not an easy decision to make.”

“We’re happy to do so,” Zetri speaks first, tilting her chin up. She's got a long, dark braid down her back that swishes with the movement. “We have heard great things of the Coalition, and we are eager for the chance to be a part of something so noble.”

Matt can’t help but look at her and see something that reminds him of Shiro. It’s there, clear as day, in the way she holds herself, the earnestness that comes with being part of something that she believes in. He’s getting flashbacks to the announcement about Kerberos. Shiro, bright eyed and grinning, taking Matt by the hand and spinning him around the room, just giddy at the prospect of them getting to go together, like they’d always dreamed. Zetri’s got the same look in her eyes that Shiro did that day. She’ll be a good fighter for Zarra to mold, he can already see it.

“Zetri. You are the fighter, yes?” Rel looks between her and her file information. “There will be some assessments we will have you do, to see your skill levels and get an idea of where you might fit with us.”

“Yes sir!” She nods, genuinely respectful and clearly excited. Matt can’t help but grin. It’s a little infectious.

Kartok nudges him gently, and Matt blinks before realizing he’s meant to speak now as well. “Oh. Right. Jion.” He looks up to meet the Galran’s gaze. “You’re interested in tech?”

Jion blinks before nodding quickly, just as eager as Zetri. They’re like six foot fifth-graders. “Yes sir. I’ve worked with everything I can get my hands on here. I am most skilled with designing and cracking code, though.”

Matt grins. “Good. We need coders. You’ll be working with me and Martek here. We’ll figure it all out together.”

“I—yes! Thank you sir,” Jion nods again, huge fluffy ears literally perking. Matt laughs, he can’t help it. It feels so good to do this right now.  Kartok takes over smoothly, giving them a bit of information and direction for what happens next, and then they’re both being led off by !oshi, who’s appeared out of nowhere like usual.

“That was kind of awesome.” Matt grins, looking around to each of his companions. Ortraz hums, gaze trained on the retreating forms of the two newest Coalition members, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“They are very young,” he murmurs, a small frown pulling at his lips. “They should not have to fight.”

“Nor should any of us,” Rel says softly, also watching Jion and Zetri. “Yet here we are. It is never ending.” He and Ortraz trade a glance, silently sharing the weight of their years with the Coalition, and whatever they might carry from their years before it. 

Kartok shakes his head slowly. “This is our reality. We need everyone we can get, young or old, and I do not blame those two for coming to us when they seemingly have no family left.” He sighs and looks over at Matt. “Your first two recruits. Well chosen, Commander.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Matt murmurs. He’s about to go back to the profiles for more tech people when he stops and blinks. “Wait. What?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to know more about this story and our characters, feel free to come and talk to us!
> 
> You can find us at this-iswhywefight.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

It has been a very long time since Matt was last able to call his life “normal”. Probably even way before Kerberos, if he’s being completely honest with himself. Space exploration isn’t exactly something everyone can just tick off their bucket lists.

But this? This easily takes the cake for weirdest thing to happen to him in awhile. And that’s coming from the guy with alien metal legs.

“This is a joke, right?” Matt looks between the three commanders, unable to settle on which one might give away the game the easiest. “The commander thing, it’s a joke?”

Leilani is clearly trying to hide a smile, and Matt wants to take that as a tell—but Leilani wouldn’t lie to him. Matt knows that just as well as he knows his own damn name. “No, Holt. It is not a joke,” they say softly, voice outright fond. “We want you to take a command.”

“Since when?” Matt’s gaping like a fish. He can’t help it. This is a gape-worthy moment if there ever was one.

“Since we picked you up from that prison.” Zarra sits down, tossing her datapad onto the table carelessly. Matt flinches at the clatter it makes upon impact. Leilani tuts at her—actually makes a soft tutting noise—and sighs in disapproval, which earns only a shrug from Zarra in response.

What the actual fuck is his life?

Kartok clears his throat. “Zarra is oversimplifying the specifics, but at the same time she is not wrong. Your natural ability to lead was perfectly clear to us and drew us to you from the start. It was also clear that you were not ready, and that it was not something you would have wanted. Now, though—since you have taken over the Hub, and given all the progress you have shown us—it seems an appropriate time to move forward.”

“Oh yeah, that was some stellar timing there,” Matt can’t help but snark with a roll of his eyes. “Just dropping that bomb out of nowhere, leaving me to flounder like a moron while we still had recruits to look over!”

“I thought you handled it quite well.” Kartok smiles, ever composed, even as a glint in his eye hints at swallowed laughter. "Only just a little bit of—what did you say? Floundering?—and then you recovered nicely."

“What better time was there to tell you than after you started to build your teams?” Zarra asks, leaning back in her chair. “You would only be better prepared when making selections if you knew that you were to be the one to command them.”

“That’s not—wait.” Matt frowns, confusion building. “Teams? Plural?” 

“The Communications Hub and the strike teams,” Zarra says calmly. “We will help you build them, of course, but both will end up under your command.”

“No no, that’s not—the strike teams are supposed to be yours! They’re soldiers! That’s your wheelhouse!”

“Which is why I will help you train them.” Zarra nods, completely disregarding the heart of Matt’s protest. “You will also be free to draw from any in our ranks who interest you. There are several veteran Coalition fighters I think would do very well under this new direction.”

“The strike team’s purpose will primarily be for intelligence gathering.” Kartok adds, finally sinking into his own seat and reaching over to take Leilani’s hand. He presses a kiss to their knuckles with a smile. “That puts them under you, Holt, and rightly so.”

“I am _so_ unqualified for that. For all of this!” Matt can’t bring himself to sit yet. There’s too much restless, confused energy built up that might need to be let out at any moment. He feels like he's about to shake right out of his skin. 

Leilani shakes their head, smile never wavering. “Not according to Ortraz. All of the physical training for recruits can be overseen under Zarra’s command, as she already has said, but you are entirely capable of directing their activities.”

Matt’s frown deepens as he says, “Ortraz was in on this too? Are you fucking kidding me?! What was he doing, spying on me?!"

“Ortraz reports back to me, and answers any questions I have,” Zarra snaps, eyes narrowing at him sharply. “Did you think your training sessions were going unobserved? That Ortraz was proceeding without counsel from me, and without my approval? We both know that you are smarter than that, Holt.”

“Zarra,” Leilani soothes, holding up a hand. “Breathe and be easy. There is no need for such tension.”

“Holt,” Kartok says gently, leaning forward in his chair. “Sit. You have questions, we have answers. Sit and speak with us as equals. There’s nothing we wish for more.”

Matt stares wordlessly at him for a few seconds more, before dropping unceremoniously into the nearest chair. A faint metallic squeal rents the air as his ankle grinds against the ground, the Commanders don't even flinch at it. “Why did nobody bring this up to me before?” He looks between them all, feeling struck dumb, and endlessly lost. “Seriously, this isn’t the type of thing you can spring on someone out of literal nowhere.”

“Before, you were not ready.” Leilani smiles, all easy warmth and openness. “You have been through so much, and you have done what so few others could even conceive in spite of it all. We knew immediately that we wanted you to have an impactful part in the Coalition, but _you_ did not want that. So we did not push.”

“It was clear from the start that you did not want to be bothered, that you were happy to be left to your own devices as long as you had access to the Hub and the freedom to look for your father.” Kartok’s voice is even and steady. It should be calming, but Matt feels like too much of a livewire for it to have any effect. “We were more than happy to give you that space and to wait for you to show us when you were more settled.”

“When did I do that?” Matt asks weakly, head swimming.  
  
“When you asked Ortraz to train you,” Zarra supplies, kicking a foot up on the table. “And then again when you took responsibility for the Hub.”

Matt shakes his head as if he could clear his mind like an Etch-a-sketch or something. “Kartok told me to do that. I was just following orders.”

“You started to think of me as your commander,” Kartok hums. “And what's more, you started to think of _yourself_ as part of the Coalition rather than being just a passenger with us.”

“Well—I—” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard. Kartok’s not entirely wrong. Matt definitely thought of the Hub as his now, he might have started that position with thoughts of prepping the space for the next guy... but never really thought about who that might be. To think of anyone else running the Hub and doing what he did on a day to day basis honestly made Matt feel a little sick. 

“You did it today as well.” Leilani breaks through his thoughts gently. “In the meeting. You said ‘us’ when speaking of the Coalition. It was the first time I have heard you do that, and in a diplomatic meeting no less.”

“Whatever little diplomacy there was about that meeting,” Zarra drawls, a grin parting her lips. Kartok ducks his head as he chuckles, the sound a low rumble. Matt blinks. Zarra catches his eyes and continues. "You stood up and ran your mouth when you felt as though I was being disrespected. Because you cared that it was happening, you felt offended and affected. That means something, Holt." 

“I..." What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn't deny the anger that burned in his chest at Zarra being overlooked and talked down to, the frustration that fueled his less than composed snark to the leaders. He'd felt that, it was real, and it did mean something... But he didn't have a clue what. "This really isn’t a joke?” Matt asks, voice wavering, just seconds more from breaking. 

“No, Holt.” Leilani leans across the table and gently lays a hand over his. “This is made utterly in earnest. We are offering you the position of the fourth Commander of the Coalition."

Matt glances down at their gesture and forces himself to take a few deep breaths, eyes closing tight. Gotta get it together. This can't be what shakes him in to pieces.

“Holt,” Leilani murmurs, his name falling like honey from their lips. Their soft voice shakes him back to focus once more—blue eyes, gentle touch, calm assurance.

“I’m sorry,” Matt whispers. “I—”

Leilani squeezes his hand comfortingly. “You do not have to make this decision now. We are asking a great deal of you, and it is not anything that should be taken lightly.” They stand from their chair, letting go of Matt’s hand and going one step further, walking around the table to come to his side. “Be easy,” they murmur, cupping a careful hand to his cheek. “You have all the time in the world.”

Matt’s heart stutters at the intimate touch, but warmth and calm melt over him. His mind starts to clear and it gets a little easier to breathe steady again. Empath. Right.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m—I’m gonna go think about this.”

“Please do,” Kartok rumbles. “You know where to find us when you are ready.”

Matt nods again, earning himself a smile from Leilani. They tap two fingers on his cheek, light and almost playful, before pulling their hand away. The warmth of their touch lingers and Matt can’t help but miss it.

He gets to his feet, looking to each of the Commanders in turn. “I—Sorry.” The apology slips out without permission, hanging awkward in the air between them. “This probably isn’t what you expected when you made the offer. I just..." He trails off, shrugging helplessly. 

Zarra shrugs herself, looking unconcerned. “There are no apologies needed. You would be insane if you accepted right off,” she says, managing to be brash, and flippant, yet somehow not unkind. “Take your time with the decision. We will not be going anywhere.” She pauses, not quite softening, but when she speaks again it’s with something almost gentle playing about her eyes: “And you _can_ always say no.”

Matt nods, trying to let that sink in and turns to hurry himself out of the room. It's probably a little too fast to be polite, but he just needs to get away. Give himself space to breathe, to think. He glances back as the door slides shut behind him just in time to catch Kartok’s wide smile at Leilani and the way they press a happy kiss to Zarra’s head. His heart gives an ache that he doesn't understand and Matt needs to tear himself away from the door.

Moving. Thinking. _Deciding_.

Right. 

It takes barely a thought before he’s making his way toward the Hub, the only place that feels like it might be safe right now. His mind is racing, tripping over itself even as his legs somehow carry him steadily through the halls.

There’s all the usual glances and murmurs, a fraction of what they once were at the beginning, but they’re heightened now today as interest in him has apparently spiked. Word of Kartok’s little declaration sure spread fast. Matt keeps his eyes ahead and schools his face into a calm mask. It isn’t anyone’s business what’s going on, fuck them.

A press of his palm to the panel outside and the Hub’s main doors spring open at his touch.

A sigh of relief threatens to burst past his lips at being back among the whir of his consoles and the coders he's picked to line their seats, coder who barely give him a second glance as he enters now. Okay, that’s definitely an advantage of his team living up to nerd stereotypes—they must not have heard all the buzz just yet. He’s perfectly okay with that.

It seems the one exception to this, as always, is Martek, who immediately sets down the datapad in his arms when Matt walks into the room. He doesn’t say anything as Matt approaches the center bank of tech, consisting of the main databank and both his and Martek’s own personal stations in the Hub. Just stands there, watching with dark, questioning eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Matt says, shaking his head as he sits down at his console. “I really don’t.”

There’s a pause, just barely longer than a second, and then Martek nods, reaching for his pad again. “We got a new batch of information from the Averians. Some prisoner logs and trade details. I uploaded them to your hard drive and started the preliminary decode if you’d like to take a look now.”

God fucking bless Martek.

“Thanks,” Matt breathes, the one word drenched in his relief. Martek nods again and takes a seat at Matt’s side, his attention settling back to whatever data he’d pulled up before Matt’s arrival.

Matt turns to his console. Work. Something he can focus on while the back of his mind mulls over this whole Commander thing. And if these are prisoner and trade logs, maybe he can even scrape out some new information on his dad.

It’s the same slog as always. Numbers, locations, and absolutely no leads. He honestly should set up a program to run through all this for him, but… he wants to look himself. Needs to do it. No matter how endlessly frustrating it is to go through pages upon pages of nothing and more nothing this is something he needs to do himself. 

And really, shouldn’t that be answer enough for the Commanders? That he’s spent months on an apparently fruitless search? If he can’t even turn up one human, presumably the only one left in the Empire’s hands, why the hell would they want him to lead? It doesn’t make any sense.

What does Matt have to offer them? He was a Garrison explorer, making revolutionary steps for scientific discovery with his father and Shiro at his side, but what does that make now? Just the sole remaining member of his expedition, and not even whole at that. The Empire left its mark on him, branded him for life, and there is nothing Matt can do about it.

Just like when they took his father. Like when they took Shiro.

He’s just as useless now as he was that day at the arena.

“Holt?”

Martek’s slightly confused voice jolts him back to the surface and Matt realizes he’s been staring blankly at his console. Sounds almost like he's been calling Matt's name for awhile now. Dammit. Matt forces himself straighter in his chair, and looks over at Martek. “Yeah?” 

“I think there might be a bug in these files.” Martek tilts his datapad toward Matt, thankfully oblivious to Matt’s internal breakdown. “I want try to get a closer look, but I’m hesitant to upload it to a console to crack open in case it’s volatile. Any suggestions?"

Matt frowns, taking the pad from Martek. “Let’s try our best to isolate it. It should be easy enough...Grab me a holo adapter?” While Martek moves away to fetch the adapter, Matt keeps on talking, narrowing his eyes at the code readout before him. “We should be able to sync it to the screen as an individual source without integrating the files completely into the databank. Worst that can happen is a system reboot, which is more of a pain than anything serious.” 

Martek presses something the size of a dime to Matt's palm, the smallest piece of tech he's worked with to date. Matt syncs it to the pad and projects the data through it, lighting the space around them in pale purple of the screen.

It takes only a few concentrated minutes of work to find and disable the would-be bug, and Matt hands the datapad back to Martek, a small swell of pride brewing in his chest at Martek's murmured thanks. It feels good to get work done, work that no one else was managing before. He’s proud of himself. 

And why shouldn't he be?

Matt has worked his ass off to bring this Hub to where it needs to be,  built it from the ground up and given it the capacity to evolve with the Coalition’s needs. He built something that is going to be so good, that _is_ so good and has already done so much. Information of all kinds gets processed faster, sorted neater, and Matt has stocked this damn place to the gills with brilliant minds that work hard every single day to make the Coalition better. 

Matt’s done more than rebuild the Hub, he gave it a future.

For the first time since Kerberos he feels again like _he_ really has a future. Before it all he was just a kid, close to graduation, staring down the abyss of adulthood and the threat of too many possibilities and uncertainties. And then Kerberos happened and everything started to make sense and slide into place. He can almost hear Shiro’s jubilant shout when they found out they'd be going together, can almost feel the crushing hug they shared, the sweet press of his lips and his whispered, “I’m so proud of you!”

He knows Shiro would be proud of him now too.

Proud to see what Matt has built, all that he’s done, all he's survived. How strong he is now and all that he can handle. Shiro would be damn proud of all that.

It strikes him like a blow to the gut, and sends all the air rushing from his lungs. Matt closes his eyes and he swears to the God he doesn’t believe in that he can feel the firm curl of Shiro’s hands on his shoulders. _Look what you’ve done,_ he can hear, the phantom lips the words belong to brushing gently against his ear. _Look at all the good you’ve done, Matt._

A shiver trickles down his spine as he feels the sweep of a kiss at his jaw. _Look at what you still can do._

He stands suddenly enough to startle Martek. “Call the command deck,” Matt says firmly, already on the move to the doors. “Tell them I need to speak with the Commanders.”

“What? Where are you going, Holt?"

“Just do it!” 

Martek is still fumbling open a comm while Matt strides out of the Hub, sure and confident. The click of his footsteps echoes through the halls, louder than he usually allows them to be. The glances he catches this time are outright stares and Matt faces them all with his head held high and shoulders back. 

 _Go get ‘em_. Shiro’s long faded laughter chases him to the command deck, bright and happy, so much like Matt’s own private hallelujah chorus. What he wouldn't give to have him here now...

The entrance to the deck is open and waiting for him, and Matt doesn’t hesitate to stride right inside. All three Commanders turn from their stations to look at him. 

“I’m in,” Matt says, all of his earlier weakness drained away and replaced with a blazing determination. “I accept. I’ll take the command.”

Leilani is on their feet first with a gasp, beaming so wide and warm and sweet that Matt swears he can taste it on his tongue. They cross the space from their console to the door and take his hands in their own. “We are so glad to hear this!”

Kartok just grins and laughs, the sound’s low timbre swelling to fill the cavernous space, seeping into Matt’s bones and bringing a smile to his own lips. They wanted this, they wanted him. And he wanted it too.

“You came around quicker than I thought.” Zarra leans back in her chair casually, grinning,her eyes insanely bright.

“Easy choice when it came down to it.” Matt’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. “I want to do something good, and I can do that here. I already have.”

“Yes, yes, you have,” Leilani says, squeezing his hands tight and smiling so wide Matt’s not sure how they maintain it. “And you will continue to so with us, Commander Holt.”

Matt stills for a moment, breath leaving him completely at the way that title sounds in the air. “Commander Holt," he says, just to test the way it feels in his mouth.

"Yes," Kartok grins. "Commander Holt. It sounds good, no?"

Matt nods, because it really _really_ does. "Commander Holt," he says again, grinning. "You know, I gotta admit, that’s got a pretty nice ring to it."


	5. Chapter 5

“I regret everything that has brought me to this moment,” Matt groans, squinting at the collection of screens in his face. Data of all different kinds from all different branches of the Coalition and their allies surround him.

Stats on troops, troop movements, supply orders, ally observation, staffing needs on bases under their purview all across different corners of the universe—seemingly all of it is spread before Matt right now. And he needs to read and understand everything.

“My brain is going to melt from my ears.”

“I am not yet overly familiar with human anatomy, but I would hope that is not something we can expect to happen.” Leilani chuckles, reading through their own work on a datapad a few steps away. “It sounds like it would make quite a mess.”

“Leaking is definitely not supposed to happen, but with all this it might,” Matt sighs. He leans back in his chair and rubs one hand across his eyes. “This is a truly ridiculous amount of information.”

“You know you are not responsible for all of it daily,” Leilani says with a glance up at him.

“But I _am_ still responsible for it,” Matt points out, peering at them through a screen. “I gotta know this, and it’s not like I’ve got heaps of downtime to settle in with it all.” Leilani just smiles, warm and indulgent, nodding as they refocus their attention to their work again.

At their side, Kartok chuckles quietly under the glow of his own spread of files. Last Matt checked he was reading over a treaty draft to be extended to the planet they’re making contact with next. It’s somewhere in Matt’s own files as well, and he really isn’t looking forward to coming across it. A diplomat he is definitely not.

Not yet anyway.

Matt sighs, looking up at the screen directly in front of him, still a little blurry. Days like this he really misses his glasses. The rows of text are never ending.

Maybe a change of topics will help. He swipes away the supply numbers and digs through files for something a little more interesting. Ooh, profiles on Empire bigwigs, that looks fun.

“Don’t bother with all that,” Zarra scoffs from her place directly across from him at the table as he loads up the collection of files. “Empire leaders are all the same. Awful, insane, and so drugged up on quintessence that I’m sure if we prodded any number of them with a sword they’d leak the stuff like fumes.”

“As vivid of an image as that presents, I’m still gonna read them,” Matt grimaces at her through the haze of the projections. “I know almost nothing about who actually runs the Empire except that Zarkon’s a fucking nutjob dictator, and looks like he seriously needs to exfoliate.”

“There is much mystery that shrouds the Empire,” Leilani hums, thoughtful and calm. “But then again there is mystery woven throughout the entirety of the universe. Little, if anything, can be easily explained. Some things just are.”

“I _hate_ when you do that.” Zarra frowns over at Leilani. “Mysticism does not belong in the rationality of war. ‘Some things just are’... Sometimes things are just nonsense.”

“Zarra,” Kartok hums. “Be easy. Leilani is right, you know this. We have experienced many things first hand that simply cannot be explained.”

“I feel like a ten thousand-year-old dictatorship has a pretty clear cause and effect at the root of it,” Matt notes, narrowing his eyes at the text before him. Fucking Galra characters. Some of them are just too similar for him to read at a glance, even with months of exposure and practice. Most of these profiles he can at least identify as generals, fleet commanders, captains, all occupying varying levels of the bureaucratic mess that the Empire seems to be.

He starts humming aimlessly under his breath as he sorts through names and titles, scowling when he has to flip back and forth between some faces to figure out what the actual differences are. “If nothing else, they’ve got a pretty solid aesthetic going,” he mutters.

Matt finds it rather easy to read through the files, cataloguing information, making notes on the datapad at his side, even with the other commanders engaging in their own conversation in the background. It’s a nice sort of atmosphere really; Kartok’s low timbre, Leilani’s musical laugh, and the rolling cadence of Zarra’s voice, currently dripping with an odd mix of amusement and exasperation.

Only a few days into the whole “being a commander” thing, and Matt thinks he’s getting used to it. Or at least to them.

A sharper scoff from Zarra breaks his concentration, just at the end of a file on some decorated Captain Sendak, drawing Matt’s attention back to their conversation.

“Don’t even start up about Voltron again,” she’s scowling, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hear it, Leilani.”

“Voltron?” Matt cuts in. Why does that sound familiar?

“An ancient legend of a powerful weapon,” Kartok explains with a sigh, marking up a page of the treaty draft with a stylus. “There have been reports of its return scattered across the universe. Leilani believes them, Zarra does not.”

“Why not?”

Zarra rolls her eyes. “The reports are few and wildly varied. I think it is some ploy by the Empire, if anything at all.”

“Why should it not be Voltron?” Leilani asks, setting aside their datapad for the moment and crossing two arms. “It has been ten thousand years since its disappearance, we cannot expect all reports to perfectly corroborate one another when certainly the witnesses are awestricken.”

“Exactly! The witnesses are confused,” Zarra insists. “Someone started whispers of this weapon and everyone wants to say they have seen it. It is delusion, a rumor blown out of proportion and spread throughout galaxies.”

“The last time this thing was seen was when Zarkon went dark and crazy?” Matt arches a brow. “And now there’s rumors that it’s back? No offense, Leilani, but it sounds a little too good to be true.”

“Thank you!” Zarra nods at him, triumphant. It’s clear that this is a battle she’s been fighting on her own. “Finally someone to join me on the field of rationality.”

“You do not get to speak of rationality when you are so hot headed on other topics,” Kartok notes dryly, teasing Zarra with a small smile. Leilani laughs, turning in their chair to reach for him. They lean over and press a kiss to his brow. Matt smiles at the sight of it.

Zarra huffs, looking away from them both, ears twitching at the teasing. “The rumors could be the spark of something much darker. The Alteans were the last to hold Voltron, and I’d rather not see if they’re all as twisted as the witch.”

Matt frowns at her. “Alteans? Is that something I need to know? ‘Cause it sounds significant.”

“No. Altea was wiped out long, long ago,” Kartok says, straightening stiffly in his chair. “The only remaining member of the race that we have encountered is the Emperor’s witch. Her file is in there somewhere.” He nods at Matt’s screen.

“What does she do?” Matt frowns, dismissing his current file and scrolling through the others. 

“She is Zarkon’s right hand,” Leilani says, tone darker than Matt has heard it yet. “She is… She has done unspeakable things. There is a coven of druids who worship at her feet and they use their gifts to spread pain and darkness.” Leilani closes their eyes, breathing out sharply.

Matt looks away from the screens, frowning at them all. A thick tension has settled in the room, each of the Commanders sitting stiff and tight, but none more so than Kartok. He sits with his head bowed, and the angle is enough that Matt gets a new look at the uneven remains of his antlers. Matt knows they were different once, that they’ve been broken, but this is the first time he can see the points where each was snapped like a bone. It’s an injury long since healed, but it looks so visceral now, so painful.

“What—?” He starts to ask, cutting himself off at the shake of Leilani’s head.

“Read the file. That is what you must know to start.”

Matt nods uneasily, scrolling a little faster through the available files. He’s about to ask what exactly he’s looking for, this witch’s name or official title, when he stops dead at a familiar face. It’s a image stolen from a camera still, nothing spectacular, but it’s enough.

Nauseous dread drops heavy into his stomach.

The sharp angles, the yellow eyes, the white hair hanging limp—“That’s the witch,” Matt whispers. “That’s her.”

Kartok barely glances up. “Yes. Haggar.”

Bile threatens at the back of Matt’s throat at the sound of her name. He immediately closes the screen. In the wake of the text, other images burn behind his eyes, memories of a shadowed grin… a cold laugh that echoes in his ears.

 _Be grateful, human_.

Matt curls his hands into tight fists, knuckles scraping against the metal edge of his prosthetics, the legs, the legs she forced on him. He’s choking on a scream, can taste the blood in his teeth, feels the pull and drag at his legs and she’s laughing. She’s laughing cold and sharp and he can’t get away, _no, God, please stop_ —!

“Holt?” The scrape of a chair against the floor makes Matt wince. “Holt, are you alright?”

He jerks up to see Leilani halfway to him while Zarra and Kartok watch with wide, worried eyes.

“No, I—” he shakes his head sharply, trying to clear it of the sickening smell of his own blood. Leilani kneels at his side, eyes wide. “I’m fine. I just—I’ve seen her before.”

Horror washes over Kartok’s face. “What? When?”

The idea of talking about it makes his stomach churn. Matt shakes his head, flinching back from Leilani’s gentle, worried touch. “I… I can’t. I can’t be here, I gotta go.”

“Go?” Zarra frowns, stepping closer. “Holt—”

Matt’s on his feet and stumbling away from them all. They’re too close, it’s too much, the walls are closing in. He’s trapped, he can’t be trapped, not again. “Just—don’t.” He swallows against the burn in his throat. “Please.”

He doesn’t wait for their reactions before pushing out the door and into the hall.

Everyone he passes murmurs a respectful, “Commander,” but he barely hears anything as he strides almost blindly toward his quarters.

Matt’s never been more grateful for how secluded the Commanders’ quarters are from the rest of the crew. Being so far from other people right now, from noise and any possible threat of interruption, is enough of a balm to his fraying nerves that Matt can breathe just a bit easier.

His room is the first at the end of the long, primarily unused hall—it’s only the four of them, after all—and he practically slams his hand down on the keypad.

The door slides serenely open. Matt gets inside and closes it as quickly as he can, leaning against the cool adjacent wall and closing his eyes. _Breathe_.

It’s just him in here. No druids, no witch, no Empire at all. Just Matt. Matt, not whole, but not quite broken open anymore either.

He pushes away from the wall and all but collapses on his bed.

“Okay,” he tries to breathe out. “Okay! This is fine. You’re fine, I’m fine, we’re good. There’s no we, just me, we’re good we’re good…” Matt closes his eyes tight, too tight, babbling in an attempt to drown out the ringing echo of that laugh. In the darkness he can still see the glow of her eyes, the jagged tear of her smile.

“No,” he mutters roughly, pressing his hands into his eyes. “No, fucking—stop. _Stop_. That’s _over_.”

It’s over, she’d finished with him and left. Left him strapped to a table soaked with his blood and searing pain in his legs and he was alone, there was no one around to help him, to save him, to kill him and make it stop, why won’t it stop, stop—

_Ping!_

Matt’s eyes spring open with a gasp. What was that?

_Ping!_

His comm. Someone is pinging his communicator. He fumbles for the controls on his wrist and answers with a hoarse, “This is Holt."

“Commander?” It’s Martek, sounding worried—hopefully just because of Matt’s apparently wrecked voice. He swallows roughly, trying his best to get a handle on the broken shards of his thoughts. The last thing he needs is to be a mess while talking to his newly minted second in command.

“Yeah. What do you need, Martek?”

“Commander Leilani contacted me,” Martek says softly into his comm. He’s been in the Hub all day, overseeing training for the handful of new coders Matt chose, and he must still be there now if he’s making such an effort to be quiet. “They are looking for you, and I was asked to pass along a message.”

Of course they called Martek. Dammit. “Lay it on me.” Matt rubs tiredly at his eyes. His heart  still pounds in his chest, racketing against his ribcage so hard Matt thinks there might be bruises. 

“They and the other Pillars will be relocating to the upper deck lounge, and they hope you will join them.” Martek goes quiet for a moment before continuing. “I do not mean to pry, but Commander Leilani seemed quite shaken. Is everything alright, sir?”

“All good, Martek,” Matt lies through his teeth, wincing as he digs his nails into his palm. “Nothing to worry about here.”

“...Yes, Commander.” Martek sighs, soft and brief, and a bitter smile flits to Matt’s lips. Martek isn’t buying a single second of this, but he also isn’t going to call Matt on his shit on an open comm line. Command has its perks. Being allowed to flirt with denial is definitely one of them.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Matt adds. “Training going alright?”

“Perfectly well. We’ve avoided injury all day.” There’s the dry Martek he knows, still giving Matt shit about electrical burns.

“Good, I’d be worried if you managed to hurt my coders. It takes work to pull that shit off,” Matt jokes weakly, not quite feigning levity. “Did you need anything else?”

“No, Commander.”

“Alright. Call me if you do.”

“Yes sir.” Martek pauses again before signing off with, “Be easy, Commander Holt.”  
  
Matt breathes out a laugh as the line disconnects. Be easy. How the hell is he supposed to do that?

His head thumps down against the bed, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling. The taste of blood lingers in his teeth but at least the witch’s face isn’t flashing before his eyes any more, right? That’s progress.

“How is this the first freak out I’ve had?” he murmurs to himself, forcing his fingers to uncurl from their fists, pressing them flat against his chest. “It’s been so long…” But he already knows the answer.

It’s the first time he’s seen her face since he was strapped to that table. First time he can put a name directly to it, too.

First time he’s had to really confront what happened to him, even if he walks around with the reminders every single day.

Matt skims his hands down his chest, and then his thighs, fingers starting to shake as he just barely brushes the lip of the metal. He almost forgets they’re there most days. They don’t feel like anything but a part of him. That was inconceivable just a few months ago.

So much has changed. He’s not the same kid who went to Kerberos, not the same person he was as a prisoner. And he’s not the same person Haggar strapped to a table and used to play Operation.

But still… isn’t he just Matt? Just a dude who wanted to see space since he was a kid? _Here you are, dork, you made it._ He sighs. Never thought he’d be out here alone.

Except—dammit, he’s not alone. He literally just talked to Martek, a friend, one he trusted enough to make his second, and the other Commanders tried to help before he ran.

Matt curls his hands into fists again, not tense and scared like before, but determined. He’s not alone and he doesn’t want to be. It’s clear that Kartok, Leilani, and Zarra are all trying so hard to make him feel welcome in his position—why should he flee and deny them?

He doesn’t have to run. He doesn’t have to deal with this—any of this—alone.

It takes him a little bit to get up and moving, to really feel like he’s pulled himself together, but he does get up, and that in itself feels a little like a victory. He takes a quick and quiet route to the upper deck, to the lounge area where Martek said the other Commanders would be.

He opens the door without fanfare, almost slinking inside. As if he could sneak into a room with only three other people.

Leilani immediately rises from their seat and goes to him, murmuring, “Holt!”

“I’m okay.” Matt tries to flash them a smile, but he knows it’s weak. Leilani takes his face in two of their hands, the other two curling around his own. He can almost see the worry pouring off of them in waves. “I’m alright.”

They lean in to rest their forehead against his. “Come. Come sit with us, be with us.”

He nods and lets Leilani bring him over to where Kartok and Zarra wait, both poised with concern. They sit down on the couch, still holding on to his hands, their grip loose enough that Matt knows he could pull away and put some distance between them if he wanted, but he doesn’t.

Kartok sits on the other side of Leilani, holding himself stiff and careful and Matt wishes he could do something to ease that tension off of his shoulders. Zarra hovers, standing, looking more unsure than he’s ever seen her.

“I’m really okay,” he tries to reassure. “Sorry for freaking out. I just... I don’t know.”

“You do not need to apologize,” Kartok rumbles. “Nor do you need to explain anything to us.”

Matt nods, swallowing around all the things he feels like he should say but can’t.

“I think I know some of what you are going through,” Kartok says gently.

Leilani looks at him and lays a gentle, supportive hand on his thigh. “My heart, you do not have to—”

Kartok shakes his head to cut them off. “No. Now, I do. Holt, you know I was captured before I took command?”

Matt nods silently. He's heard the stories of the Coalition's beginning, bits and pieces from different people since he first came aboard.

“I was held for days by Empire forces—mistreated… tortured. Broken.” He bows his head with a sigh and again Matt can see the jagged breaks in his antlers. His stomach drops. “The witch was there, directing, laughing at my pain. I count myself lucky not to remember the escape, when the recovery after was so excruciating on its own.”

“Kartok…” Matt doesn’t know what to say. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“The capture was my own fault.” Kartok shakes his head, meeting Matt’s gaze with those dark, solemn eyes of his. Zarra makes a soft, upset sort of sound at that, but nothing more. “A moment of carelessness on my part. But what came after... “ He drops his gaze away again. “It has been years, and I am still haunted by the memory of her.”

“She is a monster,” Zarra growls, literally growls, arms crossed tight over her chest. “She directed the demise of my planet. She and her druids.”

“Zarra,” Leilani breathes out, eyes wide, bridging panic. “Zarra—”

“He deserves to know,” she snaps, tense and sharp. Matt frowns, shifting more toward Zarra as she speaks. She sits down on the very edge of the couch, just inches from Matt. “This should be something shared between us all. We are equals. We are partners. And we have all been hurt and shaped by the Empire. They made us who we are. I refuse to shy away from what has brought me here.”

Each word is hard and strong, hitting Matt like any of Ortraz’s blows during training, but he doesn’t miss the waver in her voice.

“Zarra,” Matt murmurs. He hesitates for just a moment before pulling his hand from Leilani’s and reaching out to her, fingers barely brushing her own. She jumps at the contact, hardly more than a flinch. Matt meets her eyes evenly, heart beating hard in his chest again at what they’re willing to share with him. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“Kartok and Leilani know this story.” Her fingers twitch toward him, quick enough to be a simple tic. “They know _my_ story. I want you to know it as well.”

Matt can’t stop the way his breath catches at that. Leilani and Kartok are silent, sitting tall and still behind them, a statuesque pair waiting for his answer. Matt nods, quick and jerky as he battles emotions bubbling hot in his chest.

Zarra nods too, and then seems to force herself to relax. All at once her shoulders drop, her arms unfold, hands fall limp to her lap. Matt watches this all, a little awed at how seamless it seems, and Zarra takes a deep breath.

“Haggar and her druids drain planets of quintessence. They steal the life force and then leave the planet to die, and the people who live there as well. That is what happened to my planet, what I grew up trying to fight against.”

Matt remembers what Martek told him, Zarra fought for years against the Empire, only to eventually be forced into abandoning her planet, and that she is now one of the last of her kind left. 

Zarra folds her hands together. “I have never met the witch. But I know her druids well. They delighted in killing my—my people. And in leaving their marks on me.”

Matt frowns, skimming his eyes over Zarra quickly. Marks? What is she talking about? She has a light pattern that weaves through her otherwise darker fur, but that’s natural, it’s too even not to be. He’s about to ask what she means when his eyes fall to her hands, and how tightly she clasps one over her wrist. Matt’s never noticed before how much darker her wrists are than the rest of her, never been close like this to see. The lighter pattern that runs through her coloring is disrupted here, uneven and… jagged…

Bile bubbles up the back of his throat when it clicks.

Those were burns, once upon a time. Burns long since healed, that are now blackened, awful scars, wrapping thick and wide around Zarra’s wrists like bands. Like a claim. 

Horror settles like an uneasy stone in his stomach at everything she’s been through—everything they’ve all been through. Torture, loss, narrow escapes… Not one of them is unmarked in some way, and really, they should all be dead by now. They shouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell their stories.

Matt opens his mouth to croak, “I—I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can talk about it—”

“You do not have to,” Zarra says softly. “We would never ask that of you, Holt.”

“Matt,” he blurts. "My name is Matt." It bubbles up suddenly and he can’t keep it in. He doesn’t want to. Matt knows he can’t share what Haggar did, can’t talk about it, can't even really think about it. He doesn’t know if he ever will… but he wants to give them this.

“What?” Zarra blinks, eyes flickering from him to the other commanders, silent and tense at his back. “Your—”

“My name, my first name. It’s Matt. Well, it’s Matthew but—” He swallows back the nerves that threaten to curl around his throat, choking out his voice completely. “I can’t give you what happened… but I want you to know that. I know I can… I can trust you with that.”

“Oh,” Leilani breathes, their hands pulling away from Matt and from Kartok both, clasping together instead. Matt looks away from a wide eyed Zarra, and toward Leilani, meeting their stunning blue eyes and going a little breathless. “Matthew.”

“That’s me.” Matt smiles, heart stuttering in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s heard his name from someone else.

“Thank you,” Leilani beams. “Thank you for trusting us like this. We… You have no idea how much this means to us all.”

Matt shrugs. “It’s the least I can give.” He drops his gaze to his lap as his cheeks start to warm. The wash of Leilani’s affection is so strong and sweet, sweet enough that Matt’s sure he can taste it, as he so often thinks he can. It’s stronger now, tied up in the intensity of the moment, coating his tongue like honey. Matt swallows against it, swears he could feel it dripping down the back of his throat.

“Dear heart, be easy,” Kartok chuckles, so warm and fond. “Before you choke us all with your love.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot help it,” Leilani laughs, the room ringing with the bell like sound. “I am simply overjoyed!”

“It’s sweeter than normal,” Zarra wrinkles up her nose, even as a smile pulls upward at her lips. “Thicker too.”

Matt blinks. “Is… can everyone taste that?”

“Of course.” Kartok leans in to kiss Leilani’s temple as another swell of sweetness rises on Matt’s tongue.

“What is it?” Matt reaches up, curling a hand at his throat. “What’s going on?”

“You do not know?” Zarra leans closer, blinking at him.

“No? Should I?”

“It is Leilani. They are happy and loved, and as their kin, we are treated to sharing in that feeling.” Zarra smiles, a real smile this time. It softens everything about her, and she just radiates content warmth. Kartok hums his agreement, nuzzling close while Leilani laughs and Matt’s brain screeches to a halt.

_As their kin, we are treated to sharing in that feeling. As their kin..._

“Kin?” Matt chokes on the word. “I’m… I’m kin?”

“Yes,” Leilani chuckles warmly. “Of course.”

“Of course? I… when the hell did that happen?!”

Leilani hums, hands folding together. “It is difficult to say, really.” They blink at him, blue eyes serene. “Did you… did you not know? I thought we had been fairly clear with our intentions.”

“We… humans don’t have that,” he tries to explain. “Not this kind of kin. And not with—with anything like tasting people’s emotions.”

“That is a special Leilani trait all its own,” Kartok laughs. “Part of their being an empath.”

“Do you remember when I healed you? The metallic taste on your tongue?” Leilani smiles, taking his hand. “It is similar to that. But it is rare for any but kin to taste things like love, or any other intense emotion.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Zarra hums. “But it’s nice. And very fitting to Leilani, no? It is not enough to tell you that they are happy, they have to _show_ you.”

“I… yeah,” Matt manages, trying to wrap his head around all this. “I—wow. Okay. This is a thing.”

“I’m sorry.” Leilani murmurs. “We had all been sure that you knew. We should have explained…”

“Or asked formally perhaps.” Kartok brushes a kiss to the back of Leilani’s knuckles. He observes Matt with a smile. “We merely assumed you had begun to reciprocate when you started to relax around us, and be more open.”

“Is this… not something you want?” Zarra asks. Matt blinks, turning to her fully. She’s sitting so still at his side, hand curling back around her wrist once more, tension locked heavy and tight in her shoulders. There’s something so… vulnerable about the question. Something raw and honest.

“I…” Matt frowns. “No, I think I do. I just—never expected anything like this.” He’s surprised at his own careful answer, his unwillingness to risk hurting her.

“You would like to try though, yes?” Leilani asks, almost achingly hopeful. “To join us as kin?”

He swallows back the anxiety that rises at that tiny word, the scrabbling desperation to just go _home_ and not get any more tangled up in crazy alien shit. He could tell himself they’re the closest thing he’ll get to family out here, but… that’s really not it. They’re not family. They’re not his dad, or mom, or Katie, and they’re never going to be. But Matt doesn’t want them to be.

Doesn’t need them to be.

The Coalition was a way to escape, a way out and an opportunity to find his father, but it's become something else entirely. Hope, stability, something that almost feels like home. And with it came the Commanders, who are now offering Matt something more than he can even begin to understand. Partnership, warmth,… love.

God, he hasn’t felt that in so long.

It won’t be the same as a hug from his mother, a warm smile from his father, running on practically the same wavelength as his sister. It won’t be anything like the way his heart went racing and stumbling when he was with Shiro. It won’t be like anything Matt had before in his life, before the arena, the prison, the legs, the rebellion. The past will be the past, gone and unchanging.

This is his future.

“Yeah,” Matt finally breathes. “I want this.” He barely knows what ‘this’ is, yet as Leilani envelops him in a soft hug and Kartok’s pleased chuckle rumbles through the room in the wake of more sweetness in their mouths, he can’t find it in himself to mind.

Zarra hasn’t moved or spoken since her question, but when Matt glances up at her he finds the smallest, softest smile on her face.

Yeah. Yeah, he wants this. Wants them. 

He wants their kinship, their comfort, their laughter echoing around him, and all their stories, whether painful or triumphant, good endings and bad. All those things make him feel a little… fuller. Matt closes his eyes and lets himself relax into Leilani’s embrace and the warmth of the three of them surrounding him, accepting him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a quick warning that there is some injury description in this chapter. Nothing too big or bad, but it's there.

Okay honestly? Fuck the Empire.

Matt scowls at the encryption codes puttering across the screen. Every trick he tries gets him rerouted back in a loop to another level, and he’s already spent way longer than he wanted to getting into the damn system. “Motherfucker,” he mutters darkly. A low chuckle buzzes over his comms in response.

“Everything alright, Commander?”

“Peachy keen, Rel.” Matt tries another sequence of code. “How are the sentries treating you?”

“We’re having a wonderful time, sir.” There’s the sharp screech of metal, circuitry frying, and the telltale clang of a drone body hitting the ground. “Baerl will be with you soon.”

“Good.” That was enough of a check in for Matt to feel comfortable shutting up, letting his Alphas do their work while he struggles through his own— _ha,_ there it is. He allows himself a fist-pump of celebration before diving into the files. Gotta get as much done as he can before Baerl shows up so they’re not wasting time and energy on this base. She gives the most guilt-inducing flat stare when Matt throws off their timelines.

Things move along nicely now that he’s into the damn system, and he’s just finishing up with the last dataset when the door slides open. Immediately Matt’s hand flies to the dagger at his hip, tense and alert just in case it’s not the Galran he’s expecting.

Luck is on their side, because it is Baerl waiting for him, blaster held at the ready.

“Hey B.” Matt relaxes, hand falling off the hilt of his blade. He makes a quick visual scan of her, checking for injuries. “What’s up?”

“We should have an easy time getting out sir, Rel and Hepabt have the sentries under control.” Baerl glances out into the hall, lantern eyes trained on a point further than Matt can see. Galran eyes are some of the best, especially in comparison to Matt’s shitty vision. “Are you almost ready?”

“Info is downloading now. It’ll still take a little bit.” 

“That is not an appropriate answer, Holt.” Zarra’s voice crackles sharp in his ear. Jesus fucking Christ.

“I don’t believe you were invited to this conversation, Zarra,” Matt snarks back, rolling his eyes. “Would you let me work? There’s a reason I’m down here!”

“You’re down there because you insisted on going and you refuse—”

“Take a fucking chill pill.” Matt turns back to the consoles, checking progress and keying in commands to comb through the rest of the systems. “I know what I’m doing and I’ve got my Alphas to back me up. Baerl, tell Zarra we’re fine!”

Baerl ignores the order and says tensely, “We should be quick, sir.”

Matt frowns, cutting his eyes to her. “Everything okay?”

“I’m not sure.” She shifts slightly, changing her stance just inside of the doorway, eyes locked on something down the hall. “Please, Commander.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it.” Matt silently urges the data to load faster, snatching his drive out of the console as soon as it’s done. “Got it. Let’s go.”

“Be careful,” Zarra warns.

“Zarra, it’ll be fine.” Matt pockets the drive into a compartment on his belt, drawing his sword in the same breath. “Go find Lani or Kartok, you’re too tense. We’re gonna start heading out now, and—”

“Commander!” Baerl takes off up the hall, firing off a round of shots. “Sir, we need to go!”

“Shit,” Matt curses.

“Holt!”

Matt cuts off the ship comm line without answering Zarra, needing to focus as he darts out into the hall after Baerl.

There’s a sharp snarl down the hall, the rage of someone wounded, followed by an unintelligible but clearly angry shout. Matt hears Baerl’s blaster fire again, and another yell of pain.

“Commander, hurry!” she calls while still out of sight.

Matt rounds the corner, and he can see an Empire guard slumped against the far wall, clutching at their shoulder, Baerl waiting just out of the guard’s line of sight in an alcove in the wall. Matt hurries toward her. “Rel and Hepabt? Status update, now,” he hisses at her side, pressing a hand to his helmet, information readouts popping up along the edges of his viewscreen.

“We’re outside,” comes Rel’s firm voice over the comms. “Sentries are down, pod is waiting.”

“Just wait,” Baerl breathes. She leans out of the alcove to check on the still groaning guard, gauging their timing, then beckons Matt forward. “Go!”

She’s right at his elbow as they dash past, and really the guard shouldn’t have had time to affect their escape at all, but they suddenly slip onto the floor just in time to knock Matt sprawling, knocking his head hard against the floor. His helmet flies off and he sees stars.

“Commander!” Baerl gasps, turning to help him. Matt’s already scrambling to his feet while the injured guard makes a desperate reach for him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine—fuck!” He turns just enough toward the guard in the search for his helmet to get a slice from a set of claws, leaving a burning cut above his eye. Matt pushes himself away, toward Baerl, until she can catch him under one arm and haul him up.

They sprint down the hall with Matt wiping away blood starting to stream into his eye, while jamming his helmet back on. “Rel! We good to go?”

“Yes, Commander.  As soon as you two are on board.”

“Good. We’re on our way.”

They speed back the way Matt came originally and slip into the access shaft he took from their landing site. Matt leads, being smaller than Baerl, and knowing the path, but she stays close at his back, hackles raised and shoulders tense.

“Be easy,” he mutters, taking a sharp left. “Breathe, Baerl. I need you calm.”

“Yes sir,” she mutters, not relaxing a single iota. Matt swallows a sigh. It’s not like she doesn’t have reason to be on edge—they were just attacked after they thought they had cleared the base. He runs through numbers as they go, trying to figure out where they slipped up.

Matt kicks out the grate blocking their exit at the end of the shaft, flooding the little pathway with light. Rel’s hand thrusts into his view to help Matt out.

“Alright, sir?”

“Let’s just get out of here.” Matt claps the Alpha on the arm, eager to get on the pod. Blood is streaming steady from the wound above his eye, clouding his vision and stinging like hell.

“Are you injured?” Rel asks as the three of them hurry toward the pod. Matt can hear the hum of it, Hepabt at the controls just waiting to get everyone onboard.

“I’m fine,” Matt says firmly. “Just a scratch, happens to be bleeding a lot. No big.” He’s the first into the pod, clapping Hepabt on the shoulder before strapping himself into his chair while Baerl shuts the hatch.

Hepabt counts down their takeoff and Matt opens up a comm line to the ship. “We’re in the pod, heading back now,” he informs Zarra with a sigh.

“What happened?!” she snaps, voice whipcrack sharp.

“Zarra.” Leilani soothes in the background. Matt blinks. When did they get there? “Be easy.” Zarra makes a soft growling sound in answer, clearly displeased. Leilani sighs. “What is your estimated arrival, Holt?”

“Fifteen minutes or so.” Matt rolls his shoulder, sitting back in his seat. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“We will be waiting for you,” Leilani hums, pleased with that answer. “Until then.” The connection fizzles out, leaving Matt alone with his team.

“Everybody good?” Matt turns, getting a good look behind him. “Rel, Baerl?”

“Fine, sir,” Rel nods, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees.

“Are you alright, Commander?” Baerl asks instead of answering. She tugs her helmet off, and her ears, usually rather fluffy, are pressed back against her head, while her braid goes tumbling down her back. “I am sorry about the guard, sir. I was so sure we had—”

“Cut it out, that’s not your fault,” Matt waves off her concern. “We all know by now how inaccurate Empire logs can be at the outpost bases. We shouldn’t have taken the hacked numbers for granted. That one’s on me.”

Baerl sighs but settles back in her seat, trading a glance with Rel. Matt pulls his own helmet off and uses his sleeve to try and stem the bleeding from his brow.

“Damn head wounds,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Fucking bleeding everywhere…”

“Should I take a look, Commander?” Rel asks with a frown.

“No, it’s just a cut. I’ll get it cleaned up and slap a bandage on it when we dock and everything’ll be a-okay.”

“Commander Zarra is not happy,” Baerl murmurs, allowing herself to lean just a bit against Rel. He shifts to accept her weight, humming quietly.

“I’ll deal with her,” Matt reassures. “Don’t worry about it. You guys did great, another successful mission for Alpha One. Break out the pom-poms, go us.”

“Yay, sir,” Hepabt speaks up, his quiet growl of a voice drifting over from the cockpit. Matt grins, really settling in now for the rest of the short flight. The cut is starting to throb, but the bleeding seems to be slowing down, so it’s easy to ignore. He isn’t dizzy at least, so he counts that as a solid win.

“Were you able to get all the information, Commander?” Rel asks after a stretch of comfortable silence between them.

“Yeah. No problems there. Took a while to get, but we got it.” Matt leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. Not far to the ship and then he can clean up. “Might look into posting a hacker to the team though… shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did.”  
  
“Maybe Martek, sir,” Rel suggests, a smile curling at his lips.

Matt snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d fucking love that.”

Baerl murmurs something to Rel and he replies just as softly. They fall into quiet conversation for the rest of the flight, a low buzz in the background that Matt is grateful for as his head continues to pound behind his eyes.

Hepabt warns them all as they approach the Coalition base, navigating smoothly into the pod bay.

“Good work, everyone,” he says solemnly, pushing to his feet. “Take the rest of the day, like usual, make your vain attempts at relaxation. I’ll see you all for training tomorrow.”

The three of them nod and say their “Yes, Commander”s while Matt turns toward the hatch, tucking his helmet under his arm. He should probably head for the command deck first, update everyone, and then he can get something on this stupid cut before taking the data drive to the Hub.

Those plans are immediately dashed by the sudden appearance of Zarra, storming her way into the bay.

“What is the matter with you?!” she demands, voice echoing around the open space. “You do not turn off your comms on me, Holt!”

“Do we have to do this now?” Matt sighs, heading down the pod steps toward her. “Zarra—”

“No! You will listen to me, and you will do it right now!” Zarra marches her way right up to him, getting in his face as much as she can with their height difference. “You do not shut us out!”

“You were snapping in my ear, and I had shit to deal with.” Annoyance flares in his chest at her anger. He really doesn’t appreciate being scolded like this in front of his team, all still gathered behind him in the pod. “Christ, Zarra, relax!”

“You’re bleeding.” She scowls, eyes narrowed and focused on the cut. “Ridiculous! You acted a fool and now you’re bleeding!”

“It’s a tiny cut that I got when my helmet was knocked off completely on accident and through no fault of my own _,”_ Matt snaps. “That had literally _nothing_ to do with the comms. Now are you gonna keep yelling at me, or are you going to come up to the deck for a debrief with Leilani and Kartok?”

She actually snarls at him, teeth bared, fur fluffing up around her ears. “I heard all I wanted to.” Before he can say anything else, she turns on her heel and stalks out.

“What the _fuck,”_ he mutters darkly. He spares a glance over his shoulder to his Alphas, all meeting his gaze evenly. “You’re dismissed,” Matt orders, sharp and solid.

“Yes Commander Holt,” Rel nods, speaking for them all. “We will see you tomorrow morning, sir.” There is no change in the way he looks at him, no shift in his respect. Matt is thankful for that. It’s not every day he gets chastised like a child in front of the people he’s in charge of. 

Matt starts out of the bay, footsteps echoing crisp and loud, impatient to get this meeting with Leilani and Kartok over with so he can get to work on the new data.

Martek waits for him out in the hall, datapad hugged tight against his chest. He frowns deeply at the blood and the cut, but doesn’t say any more than, “Welcome back, Commander Holt. The mission was a success?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Matt snaps, annoyance still prickling hot in his chest. “Look, next time, you’re the only one on comms. I don’t care what you’ve gotta do, I’m not dealing with Zarra again, alright?”

“Yes, Commander.” Martek nods, falling into step with Matt. “I will speak with Ortraz and see if we can come to an understanding.”

“Do whatever you have to, because I’m not doing this again. Every mission it’s something else with her! I don’t need to be fucking yelled at because she’s in a pissy mood.”

“Yes sir.” Martek nods again, tilting his pad to type out a note. There is a moment’s silence, broken only by the click of Matt’s footsteps, and then, “She was greatly concerned when she could not contact you. Even more so when Captain Rel had no further information on your status when she questioned him.” The slight shift in tone is enough for Matt to know this is Martek his friend talking now, and not his subordinate.

“She didn’t need to worry, everything was fine.” Matt wipes the blood from his eye, bunching up his sleeve over his hand so he can press it to the throbbing cut. “I’m fully capable of handling my own missions! It’s not like this was my first!”

“She was not worried about the mission, sir. She was worried about _you_.” Martek sighs, tucking the pad close against him again. Before Matt can question that, he stops walking. They’re outside the command deck entrance now. “Commanders Leilani and Kartok wait for you inside. Do you have need of me?”

“I—Yeah.” Matt shakes his head, sighing. Work first, Zarra bullshit later. He pulls out the drive, handing it off into Martek’s spindly fingers. “Start the data breakdown. Farm out anything that’s not prisoner based to Jion and some of the other newbies. You know what to do with the rest.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

Matt watches Martek head toward the Hub for a second, then turns and lets himself onto the main level of the command deck. Leilani looks up at him through a bustle of activity the moment he enters.

“Despite popular opinion, I’m perfectly fine,” Matt drawls before they can say anything. He crosses to them and Kartok, arms outspread. “Got the data, Martek has it now. Only hiccup was one little guard on the way out.”

“Matthew, you’re bleeding,” Leilani tuts, beckoning him to come closer. “Come here.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get it cleaned up and get a bandage from the infirmary—” He stops when they pull him in, pressing cool fingers over the cut. “Leilani, seriously, it’s nothing.” They’re silent, but the metallic tang of their healing creeps onto Matt’s tongue. He sighs. A scratch isn’t worth them expending the energy to heal.

“There,” they murmur as they pull away, smiling. “Just wash off that blood before you do anything else.”

Kartok steps up next to Leilani, dark eyes narrowed critically at him, inspecting Matt with a frown dipped in concern. Matt gives him a flat look. “That wasn’t necessary. It was just a cut! Is that really a necessary part of kin? The weird pampering?”

“I would hope you would have learned to accept and enjoy it by this point.” There’s the shadow of a smile behind Kartok’s grave tone, one not yet reflected on his lips. “Where is Zarra? She was to meet you and come here.”

“Yeah, about that. She’s not allowed on comms during my missions any more.” Matt leans over to set his helmet on a chair. “She kept snapping at me and then lost it in front of all of Alpha One. Don’t know where she went after that little show.”

Leilani sighs, dipping their head. “This is difficult for her.”

“What, me sustaining life-threatening injuries like eyebrow scratches?”

“Kin in danger,” Kartok provides quietly. “She lost hers to the Empire in terrible ways.”

Matt freezes as an icy wave of understanding crashes over him. “Oh.”

“She has not had to worry about it in a very long time,” Leilani sighs again. Matt turns to face them both, taking in their solemn frowns and the heavy pull of memories from a time long before him. “She has never known either of us to be equipped for combat.”

Well fuck. “How did I end up the asshole?” Matt asks, carding a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose at the tacky pull of the drying blood on his skin.

“You did not know,” Kartok hums. “I hardly imagine Zarra took the time to explain herself and her worries. Even with us, she is not always as vocal as I wish she was comfortable enough to be.”

“Open honesty is important among kin. Zarra may not always use her words, but shows us what she wants and feels in her own way.” Leilani reaches out to cup Matt’s cheek. Their smile is small, barely more than a wisp of what he knows it can be, but being the focus of that is enough to flood his chest with warmth. “She will open up more in time. But you are the first kin she has had to worry over since Ortraz.”

“...And I’m a bit more breakable than he is,” Matt observes, frowning. Something dark and uneasy swirls in his gut. “Great.”

“Do not worry yourself about it,” Leilani soothes, featherlight touch trailing over his cheek. “She will calm. And now you know. If it happens again in the future you can model your own reactions to counter her own.”

“Yeah,” Matt sighs, glancing away. “Okay, I should go clean up at least, since I don’t have the active bleeding to worry about any more. Thanks, by the way,” he adds with a small wry smile at Leilani.

“It is nothing, Starling.” They lean in to softly kiss his forehead before letting him go. “We will see you later.”

“Starling?” Matt blinks.

“Yes,” Leilani beams, and Kartok chuckles. “You have all those spots on your skin. They look like little stars.”

“Spots… you mean my freckles?”

“Is that what they are called?” Kartok hums. “Interesting.”

“I hope you do not mind it.” Leilani sits down in their chair next to Kartok, smiling at Matt warmly. “I will not use it if you do.”

“I… no,” Matt shakes his head, swallowing back the lump of emotion building in his throat. “No, I like it.” _Starling_. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the fondness that threatens to choke him when they do shit like this. It’s simple and sweet and it shouldn’t be such a thing for him… but it really is.

“Go, clean up, get on with your day,” Leilani murmurs, reaching up to gently squeeze Matt’s hand. “You know where to find us.”

It’s hours before he actually sees Zarra again. She glances at him when he slides into his usual seat next to her at dinner, her shoulders tense and clearly expecting something confrontational, but Matt just offers her a smile. Kin is weird and new and every time he thinks he gets it, something else pops up to throw him off his game, but this… this he gets. The smile isn’t much, but Zarra relaxes, meeting him with her own small quirk of lips and a tiny flicker of her ears. He’s not sure how, but that seems to be all they need for things to settle.

* * *

 

Matt is already sweating hard, but with Zarra circling him and wearing that stupid smug grin, like hell he’s going to ask for a break.

“Keep your weight low,” Ortraz calls calmly from the sidelines. Matt crouches slightly lower, knowing the correction was for him, watching Zarra’s movements as closely as he could. There’s not even the shadow of a tremble in her sword hand, damn her.

He barely catches the telltale twitch of her shoulder before she strikes. The blow hits hard but he manages to block and counter it, even while blinking sweat from his eyes. How much dorkier would he look if he started wearing a sweatband? It probably wouldn’t be much worse than he must look now, losing a fight to someone at least six inches shorter than him.

In his defense, she’s been trained to fight practically since birth, but still. Too bad that won’t keep her from striking again.

Matt falls back, panting, even as he throws a taunt her way. “Come on, aren’t you gonna give me a challenge?”

Zarra lets out a short laugh. “I have plenty of energy left for that. Do you?”

“I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” Zarra drawls, lazily spinning her sword in her hand. “Ortraz has been going easy on you if you’re this winded already.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” Matt grunts as he darts forward to strike high then low, trying to trip her up even a little bit. “Am I not meeting your expectations after training for an hour before you got here? My apologies, Zarra, I’ll try to pull some energy out of my ass for you.”

“Please do.” Zarra’s laughing as she spins after blocking his strike, light on her feet, and catching him on the hip with the flat of her blade. “It would be greatly appreciated.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Matt breathes, even as a grin starts to pull at his lips. As tiring as this is, as much as he’s sure to bruise like a peach after they’re done, he fucking _loves_ this. No one can snark with him like Zarra.

“I am still beating you.” Her brow furrows the slightest bit when he blocks her next strike, but it’s smoothed out by the time she counters his own hit. “Ortraz! What is the count?”

“Two hits each,” he says. “Next one to land a strike wins.”

Zarra growls delightedly and redoubles her efforts, driving Matt back a couple of steps, swinging hard but not enough that he can use the momentum to knock her off balance.

“You are fucking tiny, it shouldn’t be this hard,” Matt mutters, much to her amusement. “Ortraz! I blame you!”

“How, Commander?” Ortraz asks, arms crossed leisurely over his chest. He’s having too much fun as an observer, Matt knows it, even if he acts as stoic and calm as always.

“Because you’re massive, and you’re always going on about using my height to my advantage, and it’s not fucking helping now!”

“Focus,” Zarra chides, circling him again, nice and slow. “Distractions will get you killed.”

“I’d beat you if we were fighting with staves,” Matt counters, tracking her movements carefully. She’s swinging her sword in big, lazy arcs, controlled just by the slow rotation of her wrist.

“Ah, but we are fighting with blades,” Zarra says, eyes bright. She changes up her footing, stepping with her back foot first in a grapevine pattern. “Ground yourself in the present, Holt.”

 _I’ll ground you alright._ Matt watches her feet, anticipating the moment when that change in her footing turns into a sharp turn, matching her momentum with some of his own. He slides a foot out, to catch on the ankle that’s holding her weight in the turn, sending her stumbling with a small cry of surprise.

Matt laughs, triumphant, spinning himself to face her, just as her blade swings up as she falls. The strike lands on his side, sharp and direct, knocking the breath out of Matt before he can block it.

“Dammit,” he groans, laughing while the sound trails into more of a wheeze after that hit. “Thought I had you with that.” Matt blinks the sweat from his eyes, raising a hand to push his hair from his face. “Nice one, Zarra.”

She pulls her sword back fast, like she’s been burned, and it clatters to the ground. Matt blinks, surprised by the movement, and looks to her head on. Zarra’s gaping at him, eyes wide, horrified… scared.

She mouths his name, _Matthew,_ but her eyes are fixed on the spot where her blade hit him. Matt lays a hand over the sore spot. Fuck, that hurts.

“Commander!” Ortraz is all but sprinting across the small training space, drawing Matt’s attention.

“What? It’s just gonna bruise—” When he pulls his hand away from his side, it’s immediately chilled in the cool air of the training room. His palm is wet. What?

He looks down to find blood soaking into his clothes. Oh. _Fuck._

“Call for Leilani,” Zarra orders shakily. “Ortraz, call them now!” She scrambles to her feet and reaches for Matt, one hand pulling his sword away, the other fitting to his ribs in an attempt to steady him.

He can’t really feel it, that’s the weirdest thing, it should hurt, but he can’t feel it. What he can feel is Zarra’s hand, small and warm as it presses against the apparent wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Noticing that—noticing the blood—is what gets his head swimming.

Matt doesn’t know if he starts to fall or if Zarra is easing him down to the ground, but then he’s on his back staring up at her, breath starting to come just a bit more shallowly now.

“Matthew,” Zarra’s fallen to her knees, hand still clasped tightly over his side. “Matthew I’m sorry, I’m so—I don’t know what happened…”

“Hey,” he says, shocked by the raspy quality to his voice. He sounds like shit. “Zarra, it was an accident, we’re good, I’m fine...”

Bless whoever decided to put the training rooms on the same level as the infirmary. It feels like just a blink before Leilani is kneeling beside him. “Matthew,” they murmur, “Stay calm, you will be fine.” He can see that they’re trying to ease Zarra’s hands away from the wound but she’s staying stubbornly put with panic in her eyes.

On the periphery of his consciousness Matt hears Ortraz’s low, rumbled _Commander_ and Zarra disappears from his side. Did Ortraz have to pull her away?

“Zarra,” Matt slurs around the lump in his throat. Leilani shushes him, bending over the wound now. The familiar metallic taste of Leilani’s healing floods his tongue, but it’s noticeably different. Slicker. Almost tastes oily.

“You’re going to be alright,” Leilani murmurs again, one of their soft hands brushing hair back from his face. “I will have you healed right up, Starling.”

“Told her I was fine,” Matt groans softly, feeling the muscle knit back together. Must have been deep, he’s never felt any thing else Leilani’s healed do that before. “She freaked over nothing…”

“Not quite nothing,” Leilani soothes, the back of their hand pressing to his forehead and then cheek. “You’re warm…” They frown, blue eyes dark. More oil drips down the back of his throat. Matt cringes at the feel of it.

“That doesn’t taste good,” he murmurs, distracted. The pain is all but gone, leaving him sore, and tired, and not in the way he usually is after a good spar.

“It’s my worry,” Leilani murmurs, cupping his cheek. “Not everything can taste as sweet as happiness.” Matt grimaces at the taste nonetheless. Leilani sighs softly and combs their fingers through his hair. “I want you to stay calm for the rest of the day. No going to the Hub, no leaving your room. Just rest, Matthew.”

He’s feeling sleeping already, slipping away, but he weakly protests, “I have work…”

“Not today, Starling. Martek can handle the Hub. Ortraz?”

Matt can barely hear Ortraz’s answering murmur, but a few seconds later he’s being gently lifted. He groans at the soreness of his freshly closed wound as it’s jostled.

The trip through the halls to his quarters is blurred with fatigue and discomfort. Matt doesn’t really register anything until Ortraz lowers him onto his bed. “‘M fine,” he mumbles again.

“Hush, Starling.” Leilani’s gentle hand wipes sweat from his forehead, the mattress dipping under their weight as they sit. “I will come and check on you in a little while. Omontu may come in the meantime. Rest now, please.”

“Omontu hates me,” Matt sighs, but he lies back against his pillows, too tired to protest. Ortraz stands at attention just behind Leilani, frowning deeply, and looking like he’ll be the first to put up a fight if Matt tries to give one himself.

“She does not,” Leilani smiles. “You frustrate her. She is still not pleased you did not come to either of us for your burns from the Hub. You give my poor second much stress.”

“Only reason she knows is ‘cause Martek’s a tattletale,” Matt jokes weakly, eyes already feeling heavy. Shit, he must have lost a lot of blood to be this exhausted. “Gotta tell Martek…”

“I will tell him, Commander,” Ortraz’s low voice reassures quickly. “Do not worry, sir.”

“Cool.” Matt closes his eyes as Leilani’s fingers comb through his hair, nice and gentle.

“Rest.” Leilani’s voice comes soft, hushed. Matt can’t find it in himself to even think about disobeying them now. Nearly all thought has melted from his mind, the ache in his side and the pull of sleep overwhelming nearly everything.

Only one thought nags him as he drifts off. Ortraz is here… but where the hell is Zarra?

* * *

 

He doesn’t sleep so much as fade in and out of consciousness for a few hours. Sometimes he’s sure he can hear voices, barely more than murmurs, too low for him to make out before he’s out again. Matt doesn’t know how long he drifts, but when he blinks himself truly awake, his room is dark, and he’s alone.

Pushing himself up to sit is a bit of a chore. Matt groans as his muscles scream in protest at the movement. At least he’s not bleeding, right?

The injury would seem like a bad dream if he didn’t have the ache in his side as proof. Someone must have changed his shirt at some point because there’s no blood in sight and probably nothing more than a fresh scar under the clean cloth. Once again he’s swamped with gratitude for Leilani and their healing.

Matt slips a hand under his shirt to press against where the wound was. The skin feels tender, hot to the touch, and yet there’s no sting of an open cut. He laboriously gets to his feet, fighting through fatigue to chase the morbid curiosity of needing to see what’s left behind.

He picks his way across his quarters, heading for his personal attached bathroom. Honestly, this might be the most exciting thing about being made a Commander. It isn’t much, nothing more than the basic amenities and a mirror, but it’s his. It’s nice to have his own space.

Matt faces the mirror over the sink with a sigh and takes a moment to just look himself over. He’s looking a little pale, a little drawn, but overall not like he’s been bleeding out on the training room floor. So that’s good.

The freckles that Leilani loves dot his cheeks, nowhere near as dense as he knows they can be after some time in the sun. His gaze catches on the newest little addition to his face, a shiny scar bisecting his left eyebrow, all that remains of the last Alpha strike mission—another thing he can be grateful to Leilani for, although that wasn’t exactly life-threatening. He looks pretty much like he always has, if a little thinner at the cheeks, more angular, older. Honestly he looks like his dad, in some of the pictures Matt’s seen from Sam’s early Garrison days. The thought is almost enough to make him smile.

Almost.

Okay, it might be time to get a read on how bad this wound was.

He leans against the sink and pulls his shirt up just enough to see the scar.

Oh. _Oh._

He kinda gets why Zarra was so freaked. It’s just a dark red scar right now instead of the gaping wound it must have been, but it stretches across his lower ribs to the soft dip between the two halves of his ribcage… If the blade had turned wrong, that could have been _very_ bad.

“Could have killed me,” Matt murmurs, lightly fitting his hand over the mark. Seeing himself touch it, even if it feels like there’s nothing on his skin, makes it frighteningly real. He could have died if not for Leilani’s gifts, _would_ have died, all because of an accident during training.

_Holy shit._

A shiver runs down his spine, tinged with fear, a little bit of panic, but nothing too overwhelming. He could have died, but didn’t. He’s standing here right now, hand pressed to the mark that could have struck him down, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart under his palm.

“Okay,” he breathes out, drawing his hand away and letting his shirt fall to cover the mark. “Okay.”

Before he can really pull himself together, there’s a light knock at his door. Leilani, probably—maybe Omontu. Normally he’d go open the door himself but he’s still so fucking tired that he settles for calling, “Come in,” as he turns and heads back into his bedroom.

He was certainly not expecting Zarra to be knocking.

“Zarra?”

She steps hesitantly inside and lets the door slide shut behind her. He’s never seen her look this nervous. It’s kind of making him worry.

“Zarra, are you okay?” Matt frowns. He takes a careful step toward her, unable to catch her gaze.

Her voice comes out as a cracked whisper. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine.” Matt has no idea how to even begin to reassure her, no idea how to handle her so subdued. “Leilani patched me right up, I’m good.”

“Hard to believe with how deep the wound was.” Zarra crosses her arms tightly over her chest. Looks a little like she’s holding herself together. Matt takes another step closer to her, reaching out with a hesitant hand, lightly gripping her elbow. She doesn’t quite flinch at his touch, but there’s some definite tensing going on.

“Well I’m okay, really. It was an accident.” Acting on impulse he pulls up the hem of his shirt for her, just as he did in front of the mirror seconds before. “See? Just a scar now.”

She unquestionably flinches this time, retreating into herself the moment the dark scar is revealed. Matt watches the pain cross her face and drops the shirt.

“Zarra,” he murmurs. He can’t think of anything else to say. Zarra’s never this quiet, certainly never this scared. “Come on, you gotta say something to me.”

She shakes her head, jaw clenched, eyes averted. God, she won’t even look at him.

“Please,” Matt whispers.

Zarra forces a shaky breath and looks up at him, arms still crossed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I—” Her words tumble together. “I hurt you, you could have died on the floor in that room, and it’s my fault—I wasn’t careful, I don’t know what happened—oh, Matthew, I’m so sorry.” She’s practically curling into herself but Matt can see the glisten in her eyes.

Fuck, he’s never seen Zarra _cry_ before.

“Hey,” Matt steps even closer to her, reaching out to grip her shoulders. “Zarra. Zarra, look at me.” She’s shaking in his grip, clearly panicked, and Matt feels his heart just fucking break. Out of all the Commanders, she’s the one he still feels distant to some days. Becoming kin and recognizing what that means has lessened that space, but it’s there, and there’s still so much he doesn’t know or understand about her.

That distance seems to fold at his touch, as Zarra’s eyes squeeze shut and she all but collapses against him. Matt scrambles to catch her, hold her tight, heart racing in his chest at the sudden closeness between them.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

She’s practically shaking in his arms and makes only a tiny sound in response before stiffening suddenly, looking up at him with wet eyes, and then… she pushes him away and she’s bolting. Again.

“What the fuck?” Matt breathes, stunned by her sudden departure, the open door the only physical evidence she was here at all.

There’s the distant hiss of another door in their hall. Matt lurches out of his room after her. Enough is enough, he’s not gonna just brush this off and adapt. He can’t.

The hall is empty when he steps out, all the doors shut and undisturbed. Matt heads right for Zarra’s door, pounding hard on its unyielding surface.

“Zarra! Zarra, open up!”

No answer. Absolutely nothing at all, not even a tremble of movement on the other side, and after a few moments Matt slumps against the door. God, he’s too fucking tired for this.

“Zarra, please,” he calls plaintively. “Please, come on.”

Again, no answer. Matt groans, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the door. Why does she keep running from him? Why come to him, so upset and shaken, only to run when he tries to reach out for comfort?

They’re kin. They’re supposed to be there for each other… why won’t she let him?

Matt sighs, exhausted. He doesn’t want to let this go. But if she won’t answer her door… He needs Leilani and Kartok. He just has to hope they’re in their room and not scattered around the ship.

Matt trudges the short distance from Zarra’s door down to Leilani and Kartok’s, a few steps that feel like an eternity with the weariness tugging at his bones.

He knocks, just twice, and waits. Matt has no idea what time it is. For all he knows they could be on the command deck, or maybe huddled together in the lounge. But luckily, just moments after his knocking, the door opens.

“Matthew?”

He blinks up at Leilani, shoulders slumping with relief. “Hi.”

They glance back into the room, then beckon him in. “Come. Come in.”

Matt steps inside, trying not to look around too curiously—he’s never actually been in here before, just glanced at it while standing outside. The room is structurally identical to his own, but it feels so vastly different. Matt catches glimpses of little things here and there on the walls, personal touches that he’s forgone in his own space so far. It’s not quite what he would imagine for a space belonging to either Leilani or Kartok, let alone one that belongs to them both, but somehow, it fits. Feels right.

That feeling is immediately disrupted at the sight that greets him on the bed.

Zarra looks infinitely small tucked into the protective circle of Kartok’s arms. He’s practically curled around her, big hands cradling her frame so carefully. “Little one,” he’s murmuring. “Zarra, will you not tell me what’s wrong?”

There’s a note of desperation there, well worn worry that’s trod through the paths of kinship many times over the years. Zarra doesn’t answer him, her ears pressed flat and unhappy against her head, hand curled tight in Kartok’s shirt.

Matt frowns, looking to Leilani for answers, and finds them just looking just as lost as he feels, just as worried and confused and helpless. He takes a step forward, slow and careful, the movement stirring a soft whir from the mechanics in his legs.

The sound is enough to catch Kartok’s attention. He looks up and locks onto Matt for the first time. The silent accusation in his dark eyes makes Matt pause—Kartok’s _never_ looked at him like that before.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Matt asks, holding his hands up in an attempt to quell the silent challenge in Kartok’s gaze. Zarra flinches at his voice and Matt finds himself swallowing back the bitter sting of rejection.

“Zarra,” Kartok says gently to her, still watching Matt. “Little one, please, talk to us.”

“Did something happen with you two?” Leilani asks, stepping up beside Matt. “Is this about the accident from this morning?”

“I don’t know.” Matt crosses his arms for lack of anything else to do with them. “She came to my room and started apologizing. Got upset and ran.” He feels so out of place here, like somehow he’s intruding. “I don’t know what’s going on… Zarra? Would you just talk to me?”

Zarra just shakes her head, glancing quickly toward Matt and then away. Kartok frowns.

One of Leilani’s hands presses gently at Matt’s back. He wonders what kind of read they’re getting of the room right now. Lord knows he can’t even begin to unpack the mess of emotion bundled up tight in his chest.

“Alright,” Leilani says after a few moment’s pause. They reach one hand out to Kartok and murmur, “My heart, we should go.” 

“What?” Kartok frowns.

“We should go,” Leilani repeats. They pat Matt on the back and then step away toward him. Two hands fold together before them, and the smile they fix on Kartok makes the suggestion sound more like a command. “Now, my dear."

Kartok hesitates, clearly torn and unwilling to leave Zarra, but he nods. “Call if you need us,” he murmurs to her, brushing a kiss to her forehead, petting a gentle hand down her back. She makes a soft, sound, frighteningly close to a whimper, but she doesn’t try to stop him from leaving her alone on the bed.

Matt gapes, looking first at Leilani and their calm smile, and then at Kartok, with that silent disapproval in his eyes. They leave together and leave him standing there without a single fucking clue what he’s supposed to do.

Zarra is completely turned away from him, arms wrapped tight around herself in Kartok’s absence, her gaze fixed firmly on the far side of the room.

“Zarra,” Matt whispers, his voice too loud in the suddenly empty room. “Please, talk to me. I know the—I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but that’s not all you’re upset about, is it?” When she doesn’t respond he adds, “You know you can talk to me. We’re kin… right?”

He’s surprised that her first reaction is a short, sharp laugh.

“Kin,” she says roughly. “Yes.”

That’s enough to encourage him to move toward her again, sitting on the far edge of the bed so he’s not pressing into her space. “What’s going on?” Matt asks for what feels like the millionth time. “Something’s up, but I don’t really know what’s going on anymore.”

Zarra’s fingers curl tighter around her, digging into her arms. “Kin is… kin is important to me,” she starts, eyes still fixed on some spot across the room. “My people… we do not form relationships like so many across the universe. Lasting blood families are rare. Romantic love is nonessential. But kin? Kin is sacred.”

“Yeah.” Matt nods because he knows this, he heard it from Martek months ago, even if he didn’t really get it then. “I know. I—”

“You don’t,” Zarra says sharply, the closest thing to her usual fire that he’s heard all night.

“What am I not getting?” he asks, unable to keep the bite of impatience from his tone. He is so fucking tired of this. “You get so snappy with me, like I’m supposed to know all this stuff, but I don’t! I’m sorry, but I just—”

“You don’t feel the bond the way I do.” Zarra glances to him and then quickly away. “You can’t.”

“What, because I’m human? That’s not exactly my fault,” Matt jokes weakly, frowning at her, and at the sting in his chest at the reminder.

She shakes her head. “More than that.”

“What is it?”

“It’s—” She huffs, frustrated. Matt can’t tell if it’s at him, the situation, or herself. “You don’t understand.”

“I’m trying!” Matt snaps. “I’m trying, really fucking hard, but I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m new to this whole kin thing, if you’ve forgotten!”

“It’s not just kin!” she says sharply.

“You just said—Christ, Zarra! What is it?”

“It’s you,” she snaps, her teeth clicking.

“What do you mean it’s me?” It’s hard to keep anger out of his voice—he’s just so fucking tired, he wants to know what the hell is going on and why she suddenly has a problem with him.

“It’s just—it’s you. It’s not just kin.”

“You’re making exactly zero sense right now.”

Zarra huffs, a soft, upset sound and she turns to face him now. Her eyes are bright, wild, and wholly focused on Matt. “I am not new to kin. I had them before—I lost them.” Zarra swallows hard, her words all caught up in her throat. “They were taken from me.”

Any words he had ready to go in response die on his tongue. She’s never talked about her kin with him before. The people she lost before joining the Coalition, or how she lost them. Zarra clasps her hands in her lap—clasps one hand tight around her darkly scarred wrist.

“We have all lost much to this war,” she says, eyes hooded, voice soft. “Homes, planets, loved ones... I lost it all at once. I grew up fighting for my home, for my planet, and I did it all with my kin by my side.”

Matt shifts a little closer on the bed and waits.

“Kin is important—kin is sacred. It’s different for everyone. Each bond is unique. You can see that even among us, with Leilani and Kartok, with you and me.” Her grip goes tighter on her wrist until it looks almost painful.

“Okay,” he says quietly, almost afraid to speak. “I’m with you so far.”

After a pause she continues, “Sometimes… There are some bonds that are stronger. It is rare, but sometimes there is one person who is just… more.” Zarra tightens her grip again before releasing her wrist entirely, hands flattening out on her thighs.

“More?”

Zarra nods, jerky, but not unsure. “My people called it an Amatus. A special bond, that comes once in a lifetime. Someone who makes everything balance. The one for whom your world stops spinning.”

“Okay,” Matt says again, slowly. “What does that have to—”

“It’s you.”

Matt freezes. “What?”

Zarra’s shoulders slump forward, and she turns her face to look at him. “I—It’s you. More than just kin, Matthew. It’s you.”

Matt’s mind goes from zero to a hundred in a single, dizzying instant. Thoughts jump over one another in a frantic mess that really boils down to a bunch of confused noises all at once. _More than kin, Amatus, once in a lifetime—what?_

What is he supposed say to this? What does this mean? He’s still getting used to the idea of kin, of this crazy, intangible, but very real bond he has with the Commanders, and now this? Some deeper bond with Zarra of all people? The one Commander he can never get a read on?

It’s a mess, he’s a mess, and Matt’s struggling to find his voice and his words and tell her that he doesn’t understand, that it has to be a mistake, or something… and then he really sees her.

Zarra has dropped her gaze in the silence that’s fallen between them. She looks so small, so delicate and vulnerable, totally lacking the usual projection of her strong personality into the space surrounding her. It stirs something in him, makes him think he’d do just about anything to help bring all that back for her.

“That—that is why I acted the way I did,” she whispers. “When you have gone on missions, when you were injured with the Alphas. And—earlier. Today. I was so scared,” she admits.

Matt moves closer, not quite into her personal space, reaching one hand out if she wants to take it. She doesn’t reach back for him immediately, just studies his hand with a furrow in her brow, her own eventually hand creeping out across the bed to brush against his fingers.

“I’m… I’m not going to pretend to know what all this means,” Matt says, quiet and careful. “I can’t even begin to try and understand what you’re feeling… or what you’ve apparently found in me to make you think I’m… that for you.”

“Amatus,” she supplies, sounding miserable and resigned. “It is fine. I didn’t expect you to, Matthew. I know you do not—”

“But maybe we can figure it out?”

The words fall from his lips, and Matt’s just as surprised as Zarra to hear them, surprised by how much he means it.

Zarra blinks at him, eyes wide and round. “I… what?”

“For once, it seems like I’m not the only one who’s clueless,” Matt laughs dryly. “Which… kinda makes me feel better. But maybe we can figure it out together. Yeah?”

“I…” Zarra just stares. “You can’t mean this… You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I have some idea.” Matt covers her hand with his fully on the bed. “I might not know what you’re talking about exactly, and kin is something I’m still trying to figure out, but I know that I like it.” His heart is pounding unevenly in his chest, so loud he’s sure she must hear it. “I was alone for so long, Zarra. I lost everything to the Empire, and I was sure I was going to die in that prison at one point.” He laughs, the sound broken and hollow on his lips. “I probably would have welcomed it too, for a bit there.”

“Matthew,” she whispers, broken and desperate. “You don’t know what this is.”

“So?” Something settles in his chest, some new groundwork laid between them. “I don’t think you do either. But that doesn’t mean it’s not something good, right?” Matt licks at his lips, shifting a little closer to her, one metal leg pressing against her own. Zarra doesn’t move, frozen in place, her eyes wide. He holds her gaze for as long as he can before dropping it, looking down at their hands instead.

“I’m… I’m never going home, Zarra,” Matt whispers, forcing the words past his teeth. “Earth is lost to me now, I’m too far in this fight. I can’t just walk away and go home and pretend that I don’t know about the Empire and the people fighting for their lives and freedom. I can’t pretend that you’re not all here, that the Coalition doesn’t exist… or that I don’t belong here with you.” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, fingers curling around hers. “I came with you because you were a way to find my dad and get away from the prison, but I stayed because I fit here. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had someplace that felt like mine?”

She still isn’t saying anything, but her fingers flex slightly under his as she stares.

“A long fucking time,” Matt says softly. “But now—I’ve got all of you, I’ve got kin. I’ve got a place and a job and I’m a Commander. I wasn’t counting on any of that when I joined. So now… getting back to Earth isn’t my first priority, because home is here.”

“Matthew,” she breathes, “That still doesn’t mean… the Amatus bond…”

“We’ll figure it out.” Matt smiles for her, small and tentative, like this new thing that’s starting between them. “If that’s something you want?”

Slowly, she turns her hand over so their palms meet. “Yes,” she says quietly. “Of course I do. I—” She swallows. “I never thought I would find the bond. After my kin died…”

“I know,” Matt murmurs. “Well, I don’t, but it’s a concept I can grasp.” Her hand starts to tremble slightly so he holds on a little tighter.

“It’s gonna be okay, Zarra.”

She nods uncertainly. “We can try.”

“Yeah, we can try.” Matt brushes his thumb gently across her wrist and her fingers squeeze his, but a tiny shiver shakes her. “Be easy,” he whispers.

“I’m trying,” she whispers back, glancing at him as a smile tugs at her lips.

“Try harder,” he teases, as easy as she has to him in training countless times. That gets Zarra laughing, softer than Matt’s heard from her before, gentler. Her smile grows from something small and hesitant to something lovely and warm, something he’s only glimpsed from her with Leilani and Kartok before.

Matt hesitates, for just a moment, before mimicking a gesture he’s seen her give to Kartok and Leilani a few times. He slides his hand under hers and lifts her wrist gently to his lips. Zarra’s breath catches in her throat, and her hand is shaking again.

“Matthew,” she breathes. “I… do you know…?” She seems to falter and Matt freezes, terrified he’s overstepped his bounds already. He lets their hands fall back down, heart in his throat.

“I—Sorry. Was that… wrong?” Matt starts to loosen his grip on her. “I’ve seen you do that before with… I’m sorry, Zarra, I didn’t—”

“No,” Zarra shakes her head, quick and fervent, her grip tightening on his hand before he can pull away even a millimeter. “You did nothing wrong.” She gives strength to the reassurance with action, bringing his wrist to her own lips, brushing the lightest of kisses to the thin, vulnerable skin there.

Every time Matt’s seen Leilani or Kartok receive this kiss they’ve gone soft and fond, practically melting under this small affection, and Matt instantly understands why.

His pulse jumps under her lips, uneven and jerky, and Zarra looks up at him, silently asking if this is okay, if he’s okay.

Matt tightens his grip on her hand again, changing it up just enough that he can slip his fingers between her own. The newness of the gesture is only echoed by this intimacy between them, but it walks parallel with the long untouched paths in his heart that he abandoned the minute Shiro turned away and stepped into the arena. Matt's heart aches at the thought, but it's an ache that doesn't linger, soothed by Zarra's lips on his wrist and the thrum of warmth from kin in his veins.

He squeezes her hand tight and offers a smile. This was more than okay.

“We should find Leilani and Kartok,” Zarra murmurs, lowering their hands to her lap again. “They will want their bedroom back.”

“Ha, yeah,” Matt laughs quietly. “Let’s do that.” He keeps hold of her hand as he stands and she follows. They leave the room together, walking without either of them feeling the need to speak, even with so much that’s left to be said. 

Matt isn’t sure what this means, where it might take them, or how to even really orient himself around all this new information. Zarra holds tight to his hand, falling in step with him and Matt finds that he doesn’t really care about any of that. This was new and confusing, but it felt good and right and that was enough for him. 

They’ll figure it out together, with Leilani and Kartok. They'll figure it out.

They’ve got time.


	7. Epilogue

_ One year later… _

“Commander Holt.”

“Mhmm?”

A pause. 

“Sir?”

“Mhmm?”

Another pause. A sigh.

“Commander!” 

“What, Martek?” Matt doesn’t peel his eyes away from the statistics he’s got running on his console. The Hub is alive with movement and excitement, everyone abuzz for the approaching mission. It's a good energy, one that seeps and settles in between his bones. “I acknowledged you. That’s what ‘mhm’ means. We’ve been over this.” 

“Commander, the pod is ready, Jion and Hlafas are waiting, and I have been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes!” That is definitely a chord of exasperation tinging Martek’s voice. 

Matt finally looks up at him, amused enough that a smile pulls at his lips. “Martek,” he says, voice purposefully grave. “Remind me, who’s in charge here?”

“Sir.”

“No no, I want to hear you say it. Who’s the Commander in this room?”

“That would be you, sir.” Martek sighs, hugging his datapad tight against the dark paneling of the body armor he’s currently wearing. “Somehow.”

“Damn right it is,” Matt smirks, pushing to his feet. “Which means we run on my timeline, and we go when I say we go.”

“May I remind you that  _ you _ are the one who told me to alert you when the pod was ready, sir,” Martek says calmly. “Not less than one hour ago.”

"Oh." Matt laughs, grabbing his blade from where it rests against his chair. "Well that's different. Jion and Hlafas have everything they need?”

“Yes, sir. We are only waiting on you.” There’s the barest shadow of Martek’s dry annoyance in his voice.

Matt grins as they head out into the hall to a chorus of well wishes from his Hub team. “You ready for this? A real mission?”

“I would have been perfectly happy staying on board, sir, but you are my Commander, and I must do as you wish.” Martek takes the sword when Matt holds it out, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Aw, come on, don't be like that. We’re gonna have fun! It shouldn’t even be a big thing—we’ve got Alpha Two backing us up, and don’t you want to see Jion showing Hlafas the ropes?” He’s actually really proud of how far they’ve both come, even if Hlafas is still one of the newer kids, and a bit of a timid sort.

“I could have witnessed that from within the confines of the Hub,” Martek murmurs. Matt waves off his griping, setting their pace at a brisk walk down to the hangars. 

“Be easy, would you?” Matt asks, activating his wrist holo as they move, doing a last minute check on all his tech, the proposed timeline of events, and any incoming status updates for open missions he’s assigned to other teams. He’s long since got this whole thing running like a well oiled machine, but it doesn’t hurt to double and triple check how things are moving along. 

“I do not like accompanying you on missions, sir,” Martek reminds Matt. 

“Yeah, but if you’re with me, you can’t bitch about me turning off my comms.” Matt glances to the side, smirking at Martek, and catching another one of his sighs. “Everybody wins!”

“That means Commander Zarra will be on comms, sir.”

Matt stops dead in his tracks in the hall. Martek stops with him, turning to him, nice and slow.

“You did not think this one through, did you, Commander?”

“Maybe… not so much.” He blinks and then opens the comm on his wrist holo to the command deck. “Leilani? Kartok?”

“We are here, Matthew,” Leilani answers first. Their voice is sweet and pleasant and Matt revels in the wash of it with a smile. “Where are you?”

“On my way down to the pods, getting ready to head out. I have a request.”

“Yes?”

“Keep Zarra off comms.”

“I am not sure that is entirely feasible,” Kartok says, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "I do not think we should bother to try. Truly a waste of effort, and I do believe you know it."

“Please?” Matt asks, already knowing the answer. He continues on the path to the hangars again, Martek trailing just a little behind while he’s on the call with his kin. “Pretty please?”

“As pretty as you can make your pleases, you should take the matter up with Zarra herself, Starling,” Leilani laughs. “She should be waiting at the pod for you now.”

Matt sighs, just a touch overdramatic. “Fine. But if she’s on comms and I go nuts, it’s on you two.”

“Go well, Holt,” Kartok chuckles. "Be well and be easy."

"Be safe!" Leilani adds quickly. 

“I’ll try. Holt out.” Matt closes the comm connection as he and Martek near the hangar. A lot has changed since becoming a Commander, but Zarra being a nightmare during his missions? Not so much.  Whatever. Not like he can’t deal with it in time. He sighs, shaking it off and rolling his shoulders as come up on the doors. “My helmet’s in the hangar, right?”

“Your helmet, sir?”

“Yeah, my helmet,” Matt glances at him, pressing a hand to the hangar's entrance scanner. “You know, the black shiny thing I wear on my head so I don’t, you know, die?”

“I am not responsible for your armor, sir,” Martek reminds him lightly.

“So I can assume that means you haven’t seen it.”

“No, sir.”

“Holt,” Zarra calls from the side of his loaded pod as soon as he steps into the hangar. She hoists his helmet in one hand. “You left this in the training room.”

“I knew that,” Matt grins, pulling away from Martek, heading toward her. Martek sighs and heads right up into the waiting pod with Matt's sword. “Thanks.”

“I should hope you will be less careless with the mission than you are with your equipment,” Zarra drawls, lazily offering the helmet out toward him.

“Maybe I wanted an excuse to get you here before I left.” Matt takes the helmet with a smirk. “Ever think of that, Z?”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “It would have been much easier to simply ask if that is what you wanted. What if I had sent Ortraz down with it?”

“You wouldn’t have.” Matt grins at her while he tucks the helmet under his arm.

“Oh no?”   


“Nope. Because it would mean we wouldn’t see each other till I got back.”

She glances away, trying to hold on to her annoyed look, but he knows how to see the softness in her face now and steps toward her with an offered hand. Zarra pauses only briefly before taking it.

“You know this is barely anything,” he assures her softly. “Just a tiny little mission, popping down for a few things and back up here with Alpha Two on us the whole time. I mean, hell, I’m taking Hlafas. I wouldn’t take one of my newest recruits on something dangerous.”

A smile creeps onto her face. “You would not take Martek, either, because he would outright refuse.”

“That too,” Matt grins. “As it is, he’s been bitching all morning.” 

“Last time he came off base, you left him on Shi’or,” Zarra points out, twining their fingers together, the softness of her palm pressing against the rough material of his gloves. 

“And now we have a fully functioning network of communications and updated consoles across the Coalition, once again proving that I was right to assign him there and no one should question my judgment ever, the end.” Matt smirks, tugging her closer, pulling her right up against him. 

A laugh startles past her lips, the softer one she saves just for him. He’s never gonna get tired of hearing it. 

“You might need a new helmet, your ego will outgrow it,” she teases.

“Nah, you usually keep me grounded.” Matt leans down and touches his forehead to hers, eyes half closing. On his temples he can feel the soft brush of her ears flicking in happiness.

“Go on, your team has been waiting too long for you,” she scolds as they part. “Wasting time, Holt.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He squeezes her hand once more before letting go to board the pod. Just as he’s putting his helmet on he pauses on the threshold and turns to her. “Hey, Zarra?”

“Yes?”

“Stay off the fucking comms this time.” He grins. “I don’t need to hear your nagging when I’m trying to get shit done.”

“Bite me,” Zarra snarks, grinning right back at him. “Do your job well, and I won’t have to nag.” 

“That has yet to be seen!” Matt laughs, turning away from her and ducking into the pod. Jion and Hlafas are set up and strapped in at their stations. Martek stands beside Matt’s own seat. 

“Are we ready, Commander?” Martek asks. 

“Yeah,” Matt shoves his helmet on, sitting down in his chair. “Let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have the end of another story in our universe! Thank you all so much for reading and for your support and comments and kudos! The reception to Why We Lie Awake and the This is Why We Fight verse in general has been just amazing!
> 
> This is far from where our story ends. We'll be back soon with our next story, the final in the line up. In the meantime, we'd be happy to have you come visit us on tumblr and talk about the verse or the characters or anything at all! 
> 
> Thank you again so much!
> 
> this-iswhywefight.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to know more about this story and our characters, feel free to come and talk to us!
> 
> You can find us on Tumblr [here](http://www.this-iswhywefight.tumblr.com).
> 
> Endless thanks and praise to Kara [@arrival-layne](http://arrival-layne.tumblr.com) for her [stunning art of the Commanders and Ortraz](https://this-iswhywefight.tumblr.com/post/165280454063/arrival-layne-after-a-lot-of-collaborating-with)!


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